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Billy To-Morrow’s Chums 








Hello, young feller ! What are you out of quod for? ” 

[Page 86] 


BILLY TO-MORROW” 


SERIES 


€ € 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S 
CHUMS 


By 

SARAH PRATT CARR 

In 

Author of 

The Iron Way, Billy To-Morrow, Billy To-Morrow in Camp, 
Billy To-Morrow Stands the Test 


lUustrated by 

ROBERT J. DAVISON 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO, 

1913 



Copyright 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

J913 




“B 


Published November, 1913 


IB. 3F. ifall ^rintftt 0 CHomiiatii) 
(ZltTiraga 


V- 

©CI.A358225 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Hello, young feller ! What are you out of quod 

for? ” Frontispiece 

“ Get into this chair,” Sydney ordered . . . 

She was in evening dress 132 

A premonition of disaster swept him • . . 138 

“ Mine leetle Ida would be eighteen already ” . 164 

Here she is ! ” Max shouted wildly .... 188 



Billy To-Morrow’s 
Chums 


CHAPTER I 

HE night was dark, the darkest he ever 



knew, Sydney Bremmer thought as he went 
his rounds to see if the place was in order. When 
first he came to live with Mrs. Schmitz he had 
to take a lantern; but now he was so accustomed 
to the narrow, soft lanes that led up and down 
the nursery between close rows of shrubs and 
fiowers, and to the passages in the greenhouses, 
that he could “ feel his way,” as he could in the 
same way tell when the temperature was right. 

As for the little furnace, its own cheerful light, 
when he opened the doors to fill the fire box and 
bank the fire, not only showed the way to the 
coal bin, but sent long streamers of genial light 


Ti] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


into the blaek night, and flooded the boy’s face 
with a weird color that made him look like a 
fire spirit. 

Once between noises he thought he heard 
something imder one of the plant shelves, and 
called to see if it was the dog, Blitzen. No dog 
appeared, and everything seemed to be in place. 
Thinking he had been mistaken, Sydney closed 
the furnace, fastened the greenhouse door, and 
ran through the nursery gate to the porch, where 
he put out the milk bottles and patted Bhtzen, 
saying good night in the silent, boyish fashion 
that the dog well understood. 

As he entered the kitchen, very quietly he 
thought, a woman’s voice called from above, 
“ That you, Seedney? How late you sit up.” 

“ Yes. Had trouble with my geometry. 
Everything’s all right.” 

“ So? Good! Sleep forty miles the hour till 
breakfast. I ’ll call you. Think of nothing but 
rest. Good night.” 


[ 2 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sydney returned her good night, mounted the 
wide stairs, and passed through the long hall, dark 
as Erebus but for a faint gleam imder a door, the 
one leading to Mrs. Schmitz’s room. Always her 
tiny night light sent its friendly beacon to Sydney 
through the window as he came roimd the house 
from his rounds in the nursery. 

His room was warm from the comfortable 
stove; and light from the student lamp lent an 
air of refinement to the chamber not in keeping 
with the cheap furnishings. 

But Sydney did not mind the cheapness of 
things. The pine bureau and bedstead painted 
gaudily, the table with pitcher and bowl that 
served for a lavatory, the cheap chairs and cot- 
ton carpet, chromos on the wall and nails in the 
closet — these makeshifts were luxury to the lad 
who had known continuous hardship in his news- 
boy days after the great fire in his native city, 
San Francisco. 

This warm nest was a haven of peace and 
[ 3 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


comfort. Towels and sheets were soft and clean, 
the blankets fleecy and warm, and the pillows the 
very home of sleep for a head that had long 
pillowed on a roll of papers. 

And on those nails in the tiny closet was the 
luxury of a best and a second best suit; on 
the table books and papers, with permission to 
study or read as late as he pleased. When he 
entered his den, set the stove roaring, and settled 
at ease in his old cane “rocker,” a peace and 
satisfaction filled him that could well be the envy 
of the richest millionaire living. 

This night, chilled from his errand in the cold, 
he looked aroimd with renewed appreciation. 
He wound his nickel clock and turned ofP 
the alarm. At fixst he had disregarded Mrs. 
Schmitz’s injunction to sleep on Simday morn- 
ing, believing it his duty to be on hand for the 
early work that knows no holiday. But she was 
a woman of authority, and Sydney had long ago 
found it as necessary to obey her orders for his 

[ 4 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


comfort as for those concerning his work. As he 
became better acquainted with the lonely, eccen- 
tric woman, he was more than willing to heed 
her wishes. 

One of these was that he shoidd sleep with 
windows wide open. Tonight the inrush of cold 
air drenched from the salt Sound took the sleep 
from his eyes and sent the quick blood to his 
brain; and with it a hrmdred ideas that came 
tumbling over one another for notice. 

The most important matter was a growing 
puzzle to him: why the girls at school would not 
treat Ida Jones, who worked for her board, as 
well as the boys treated him, who worked for his 
board. 

Of course she was a junior; yet when he had 
been a junior he had found no such battle to 
fight. Suddenly he remembered his friends, 
Reginald Steele, Hec Price, “ Sis ” Jones, and 
Billy To-morrow — good old Billy, who had 
always been his friend since the day on the coast 
[ 5 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


steamer when Billy interceded for the stowaway, 
Sydney. A word from any of these was as good 
as a proclamation from the whole of an \mder 
class. 

Yet for Ida it was not the same; she had 
something quite different from a boy’s troubles 
to fight, wholly feminine and mysterious. 

A bright idea came — he would ask Bess Car- 
ter about it; she was sure to set “ something 
doing” for Ida; and if she did the other girls 
would promptly fall in line. 

But how could he accomplish it? To speak to 
a girl, even bluff, common-sense Bess, had come 
to be a pain during the past year. He could not 
understand it; hated himself for it, and spent 
long silent horn's when he should have slept, com- 
posing brilliant dialogues between himself and 
some girl, only to slink by the first time he met 
her. Even a word from lonely Ida, whom acci- 
dent had thrown in his way, set him in a panic. 

How long he living over his vivid school 
[ 6 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


life, building youth’s air castles, he did not know. 
He thought he had not slept, yet started sud- 
denly at the sound of soft footsteps at the other 
end of the hall, and quickly rose and looked out 
of his door. 

Mrs. Schmitz with a lighted taper was stand- 
ing at the head of the stairs, listening. Her hair 
himg in a long braid, and the straight lines of 
her heavy kimono disguised her large figure and 
gave her a weird stateliness that made Sydney 
think of some serpent-bound goddess from old 
mythology. 

He slid into his slippers, pulled around him the 
spread from the bed, caught up the poker from 
under the stove, and hurried to her. 

“ What is it,” he whispered, “ a biuglar? ” 

“Nothing, I guess. What you up for? I 
catch him mine self.” 

Both listened intently. The stillness lasted so 
long that Sydney thought her mistaken, when a 
sliding sound came from below. 

[ 7 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“You stay here,” he whispered; “ I ’ll go 
down.” 

“ No, you do n’t! I won’t have you killed all 
alone. I come too.” 

“ Blow out the light then. We must see liim 
first,” Sydney ordered. “ Got any matches? ” 

“ Yes,” she whispered. 

Silently they crept down the stairs. 

On the stairs Sydney planned. “ You stand 
at one side of the kitchen door and when I call, 
light the candle so I can see.” 

“ But he may catch you first, hurt ” 

“ I know the kitchen and he does n’t. Do as 
I say, and we ’U get him.” 

The house was large and two closed doors 
were between them and the burglar. Sydney 
was wondering if he could open them quietly, 
when Mrs. Schmitz stepped in front of him and 
noiselessly threw open one of them while he was 
thinking about it. From under the pantry door 
came a thin gleam of light. 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ He thinks to find silver. He iss fooled.” 

Sydney could hear the laugh in her words 
although they were whispered. “ Stay here,” he 
ordered, and before she knew his intention, he had 
turned the key in the pantry door, and was hurry- 
ing out of the kitchen to barricade the pantry win- 
dow from the outside. 

But she had come to the end of obedience. She 
flew after him, heedless of noise, caught and held 
him back, saying excitedly, “ Not for anything 
shall you go out there. Mebbe more come.” 

From pme astonishment rather than obedience 
he paused an instant, when the light vanished 
from imder the door, and some one ran into the 
dark room. 

Both rushed after him, laid hold of him, and 
dragged him to the floor. 

“ Go away! He may have a gun. I Ve got 
him fast,” Sydney cried. 

“ Ant if he has a gun we will take it away,” 
the woman answered pluckily, still keeping her 
[ 9 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


weight on the prostrate figure. “ You hunt for 
it, Seedney.” 

The man, trapped, fought fiercely for liberty. 
It was a silent struggle there in the dark. They 
knew not what moment a light, or a gun from a 
confederate, might be flashed upon them, yet 
thought not of yielding. 

Neither of the out-flying hands held a gun, 
Sydney discovered, and between blows he tried 
to reach the man’s pockets, but without success; 
partly because the valiant German woman man- 
aged to keep her bulk well over him. 

Suddenly all strength left the culprit. In an 
instant his body grew limp and he resisted no 
more. “ I give up. I have n’t any gun,” came 
in a hoarse whisper, followed by a cough that 
shook the woman now calmly sitting on his back. 

“ Seedney, find the clo’es line; in the store- 
room — we ’ll tie him; then let him get up.” 

Sydney lighted the lamp and quickly brought 
a rope, with which they bound him as he lay, face 
[ 10 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


downward; and when Mrs. Schmitz with diffi- 
culty regained her feet she ordered him to rise. 

To their surprise he lay motionless and silent 
except for the cough he tried to suppress. They 
waited, Sydney wondering if the man were 
only feigning; Mrs. Schmitz suspecting his 
exhaustion. 

“ Go, quick, and telephone for the police. I ’m 
a match for him now.” Sydney lifted his poker 
threateningly, though afterward he smiled, re- 
membering how thorough was their work of 
tying. 

But the woman’s keen eyes had seen something 
that arrested her. Though the man made no 
attempt to obey, she saw him tremble, saw his 
shoulders lift; heard his indrawn, convulsive 
breath, and knew what it meant. Much quicker 
than she had risen she dropped on her knees 
beside him, a mother’s tenderness in her rich 
voice. 

“Look at me! You are sorry! Almost you 
[n] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


could cry. No bad man does that when he iss 
robbing — when he iss caught. He fights, or 
mebbe he says damn. You are no bad man.” 

She laid her hand tenderly on his head and 
tried to see his face; but he still held it to the 
floor, fighting his cough. He wore a thin suit 
much too large for him, and his shoes were 
broken, showing his bare feet. 

“ Get up, man. Whatever robbing you have 
done you find not much money, I guess.” 

Before he could move, a violent spasm of 
coughing shook him pitifully. She turned, 
caught up the spread Sydney had dropped, and 
threw it over him. “ Watch him till I come 
back,” she called, and ran out through the dining 
room, surprisingly fast for a heavy woman. 
“ Tie him in a chair, and make a fire, Seednej%” 
she added in a high voice from the hall ; and in a 
moment they heard the stairs creaking under her. 

“ Get into this chair,” Sydney ordered, push- 
ing the kitchen “ rocker ” toward the other. 

[ 12 ] 



Get into this chair,” Sydney ordered 



\ 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Painfully the man obeyed, disclosing a face 
gaimt from hunger but as youthful as Sydney’s 
own, and a slender, emaciated frame. 

“Gee! You ’re just a kid, too. What ’re you 
up against? ” he questioned as he put the kitchen 
door key in his pocket and locked the window. 
“ You do n’t look the housebreaker part one little 
bit,” he continued, and began to build a fire. 

“ I ’m certainly an amateur; this is my first 
appearance,” the youth returned in a husky 
voice. 

“ You ’ve queered yourself with this audience; 
why did you try it? ” 

“No home, no work, no money, and everybody 
afraid of me — tuberculosis they think I have.” 

“ Have you?” 

“ I think not ; but I soon shall have it if I do n’t 
find work and enough to eat. I have n’t slept in 
a bed for a week; no money for ten days.” 

“ Gee! That ’s hard luck. I know how it is 
myself.” 


[ 18 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ What? You? She ’s too good a mother for 
you to be talking of hard luck.” In spite of 
weariness he smiled his incredulity. 

“Mother, nothing! Mine is dead. She’s a 
good one though. And I ’m in out of the wet 
now all right. But it was different when I was 
a San Francisco newsy, sleeping over bakery 
gratings.” 

The other boy stared at Sydney enviously. 
“ How did you come through so — so to the 
good? Chicken fixings and a gentleman’s sleep- 
ing outfit?” He eyed Sydney’s neat pajamas 
and slippered feet. “ Gee! I ’d be glad of as 
good as that for the day time.” 

Sydney had set the lamp on a table near the 
other boy, and his pale face was sharply revealed. 
When Mrs. Schmitz, hastily dressed, entered, he 
looked up appealingly, but said nothing and 
dropped his head again on his breast. 

“Mine goodness! You’re only a boy!” she 
exclaimed. 


[141 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

“ Did you call the police? ” Sydney asked. 

“ No policeman yet. I want to talk mit him 
first.” The captive stirred uneasily. “When 
have you something to eat? ” 

“ Night before last. That ’s what — what I 
came for — I could n’t stand it any longer.” 

“ Ant also you freeze.” 

“ No. Three nights I have slept in your green- 
house. It ’s warm there and ” 

“ Yes, yes! Too warm and too wet for cough- 
ing. No longer you will sleep so. Seedney, get 
him that one coat you do n’t wear any more, and 
other warm clo’es you have. I buy you more. 
Ant yourself dress; pretty soon you also will be 
coughing.” 

Sydney added some light wood to his fire and 
hurried to do her bidding, coming again in no 
time, it seemed to him; yet in those few minutes 
Mrs. Schmitz had hot milk ready and savory 
food steaming on the stove. 

Still obeying her, Sydney untied the boy’s 

[ 15 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


hands and then puttered about the room, bringing 
the kitchen dishes to the table, keeping busy that 
the other chap might not feel himself watched. 
Yet Sydney did not let his eyes wander far; his 
street training had made him wary. 

“ Put on more dishes, ant also the good ones 
with knifes from the dining room. We also shall 
eat mit the company. It iss now already past 
two o’clock ant I myself am htmgry.” 

Neither Sydney nor Mrs. Schmitz appeared to 
think it strange that they should be calmly sup- 
ping with one they had just caught and thrown — 
one who still sat tied to his chair. 

She coaxed the stranger to tell his story. It 
was little different from the many; untrained, 
without friends, and consequently the first to be 
set adrift in slack times. 

“ It is only work I need,” he finished. 

“ Why have you no work? You have parents, 
ant home?” 

The boy nodded and himg his head. “My 
[ 16 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


father is living, not my mother. But I — I can’t 

go home. I ” He looked up fearlessly. 

“ I cannot tell you why, though it is nothing to 
be ashamed of. Only I — I can’t go home. If 
I could get work I would not steal. But if you 
have no work, what can you do? ” 

“You shall have work, sure! ” she exclaimed 
earnestly. “ Pretty soon; when you say good-by 
to that cough. By me you shall stay till you eat 
much and get strong. Then I will find work for 
you.” 

He looked up, startled. “ You will keep me 
— Max Ball, — keep me here in your house, 
when I have — have tried to rob you? ” 

“ Well, why not? You only need to eat. I 
also must eat; if not from my o^vn dish, then — 
from some other man’s.” 

“You — you trust me? ” He could not seem 
to imderstand. 

“ See here, boy. You cannot steal from me. 
No man takes from me one little thing only it 
[ 17 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


iss something I ought not to have. You already 
have tried it once. Did you get away mit the 
goods? ” She laughed as if it was a good joke, 
while the boy still stared. 

“ You think that iss funny; it iss this way. 
You come here to rob me, ant you fail because 
some one — the Great One — iss seeing you. 
You have tried hard as you can to do right; but 
you are full of cold, hunger, lonesomeness; you 
cannot see hfe iss good any more. So the goot 
Gott im himmel sends you to one old woman 
who iss not afraid, ant she has enough for one 
boy more. You stay by me? ” 

The warmth, the steaming food that all at 
once made him faint, the welcome where he had 
expected, if not rough treatment, certainly arrest, 
and especially the kindness that recalled the mem- 
ory of all a loving mother could he, — these were 
too much for him; he sobbed like a child. 

“ Get the salt, Seedney! ” Mrs. Schmitz cried; 
“ you are stupid to forget! ” 

[ 18 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sydney knew well this hardness was only as- 
sumed to shield the other boy. Looking from the 
pantry he saw her go swiftly behind the captive, 
put her big arm roimd his shaking shoulders, 
and smooth back the tangled dark hair. But her 
words were rough ; she knew it was a dangerous 
time for sympathy. 

“Stop this already! By me nobody cries. 
Everybody laughs. Keep still the shoulders, I 
tell you! They pxunp up and down like a wind- 
mill in a big vdnd. Also like old windmills with 
rust on ’em; I can hear ’em squeak already. 
Stop the noise mit your mouth and put some- 
thing in it.” 

So she rattled on with rude words, but her 
hand never ceased its soothing, hypnotic motion 
above the too white brow; and in a moment it 
seemed to Sydney the boy was quiet, and she 
had unbound him. 

“ Seedney, will you stay hunting salt till to- 
morrow already? What keeps you, dumkopf?” 

[ 19 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sydney’s face was flushed when he entered* 
He did not relish being called a blockhead even 
in German. And back of that resentment was 
another emotion he did not then recognize — 
jealousy. This fly-by-night, this sneak thief, 
was to come right into the family, to share what 
he, Sydney, had so long enjoyed as all his own. 

A little sullenly and noisily he put the salt- 
cellar on the table. Mrs. Schmitz, looking up, 
caught the meaning on his face. At the moment 
she forgot that Sydney’s feeling was natmal; 
forgot that a boy cannot imderstand the instinct 
that makes the mother ready to sacrifice the child 
that is safe for the one that is in danger. 

“ Go you, Seedney, bring some wood. It iss 
cold here as north pole.” 

Sydney was gone longer than necessary. He 
knew that she was gaining time for the stranger 
to recover calmness. The boy outside looked in 
from the darkness angrily at first, but more 
kindly as he saw the waif, little by little, melt 
[ 20 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


under kindness, answer questions, and begin to 
eat. And when he finally entered, chilled by the 
biting cold into a more generous spirit, it was to 
hear the end of a compact; the stranger lad was 
to remain, and, as soon as he was well enough, 
he was to help in the greenhouses. He looked 
calm, even happy. 

At that instant a soft, clucking noise from 
the outside arrested them. 

The boy’s face went ashen. He started up. 
His eyes filled with remorse, looked mournfully 
upon them as if he were taking leave of a dying 
dear one, and he caught up the freshly cut loaf, 
and rushed out through the door. 

“ I ’ve been the meanest fellow going! ” he 
cried as he ran. From the door he called back, 
“ Thank you both! Good-by!” and vanished. 


[ 21 ] 


CHAPTER II 


T^OR a moment the two in the kitchen stared 
at each other, speechless; but the moment 
was short. Whatever might have caused the 
sick boy’s departure, Mrs. Schmitz was not one 
to have her hospitality scorned. 

“ Never mind what you think,” she sharply 
reproved Sydney, who had ventured to voice his 
distrust of the midnight prowler. “ I looked 
once in his face. He iss now a good boy. If he 

goes once again to cold ant hunger, he ” 

She broke her speech and called into the night, 
“Blitzen! Blitzen!” 

No dog came bounding to her, but a faint 
whine was heard somewhere outside. She caught 
up the rope that had held the stranger, and, heed- 
less of thin slippers, ran into the wet dark, calling 
Sydney to follow. 


[ 22 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


They found the dog tied to the fence, his jaws 
strapped together. 

With many endearments of hand and speech, 
the latter in German, she imbound him, led him 
to the kitchen door, and made him smell of rope 
and chair. “ Seek! seek! Find him! Hold! 
him! ” she commanded. 

The dog sniffed doubtfully a minute, growled, 
and with a short bark, set off through the gate 
and down the street. 

“You also, Seedney! Rim! Catch up mit 
Blitzen. He ’ll find that boy, ant you bring him 
back. No matter what he says, bring him.” 

The run was short and led scarcely a block 
away to a vacant lot, where Sydney foimd the 
other boy prone on his face in a thicket of young 
sallows and wild blackberry. 

Evidently stunned from a fall, he was mum- 
bling incoherently and Blitzen was nosing him 
doubtfully. Even the dog had his scruples about 
attacking a fallen enemy. Sydney turned the 

[2S] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


lad over, trying to learn what had happened, and 
was debating the next thing to do when Mrs. 
Schmitz puffed into the zone of excitement. 

“Ach! Here he iss! Hooray, Bhtzen! Good 
Blitzen! ” She gave the dog a caress that took 
the drooping doubt from his tail and set it high 
over his back, a waving plume of satisfaction. 

They soon had the stranger on his feet and 
back in the kitchen. He seemed willing to go, 
and quite calm but reticent, evidently perplexed 
as to Mrs. Schmitz’s motive in compelling his 
return. 

She did not hurry him, but busied herself 
about the room; gave the dog some food, and 
piled the dishes together, Sydney helping. Pres- 
ently she turned to the boy, decision in her face. 
“ You come now mit me up stairs ant have one 
bath ant go to bed. Tomorrow you shall talk 
mit me.” 

He stood suddenly erect. “ No, tonight — 
now I shall tell you what — what you must know 

[ 24 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


before you keep me in your home another hour. 
Before this I have robbed a few ice boxes — 
taken things to eat. But this time I came to get 
money, jewels, anything I could find that could 
be turned into money. I had the dope, too.” 

“ Dope? ” she questioned as he hesitated, 

“ Yes. I was going tc put you to sleep, so 
that I could have time to — to go over the house. 
You see I ’m green at the work, and Jim — my 
pal — said that was the only way I could pull 
off the stunt.” 

“Ach! So? Two of you?” 

“ Yes. He is an old hand.” 

“ Why did he send you? Why comes he not 
himself? ” 

“ He said the police were on to him. If I was 
caught I could get off easy because it was my 
first offense and I am young. Besides it isn’t 
safe for the one that — that steals the goods to 
try to raise money on them.” 

“ So? ” It is impossible to describe in words 

[ 25 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the changes the German woman could ring on 
that one little word. It could mean doubt, in- 
credulity, surprise, joy, sorrow, pity, trust, love, 
and more. 

This time it meant scorn. “ So? You take all 
the risk. Y ou give him the goods, ant he gets the 
money! It iss one fine scheme! When did you 
fall in his trap? ” 

“ Today — yesterday, I mean,” he glanced at 
the clock that marked the hoim of three, “ when 
I was hunting work, hungrier all the time, I got 
angry. I said if a man wants work and can’t 
get it, at least he ought not to starve. Going to 
jail would save him from that.” 

“ I ’ll give you better to eat than any chails,” 
Mrs. Schmitz broke in with a laugh. 

Sydney saw the ghost of an answering smile 
on the lad’s face, and knew that was what she 
wished. 

“ When I went back to — to the place down by 
the water front where he hides in the daytime, 
[ 26 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


he made this proposition that — that I tried to 
carry out — and failed.” 

“ But why you choose my place? I ’m not 
rich.” 

“ A man paid you fifty dollars last evening, 
there in the greenhouse, did n’t he? ” She nodded. 
“ I was there, saw it, and hurried off to tell him. 
We came back in time to look through your 
dining-room windows and see you at dinner. 
Gee! It looked good.” He hesitated a breath, 
and indicating Sydney, went on. “ He was feed- 
ing the dog things I could have fought for.” 

“ Seedney, no more shall you feed Blitzen at 
the table.” 

“ Something like frenzy came to me then, and 
I said, ‘I’ll do it! I will have some of that 
dinner! ’ ” 

For a time the kitchen was absolutely still. 
Then Mrs. Schmitz said abruptly, “ Still you tell 
me not why you run out mit mine bread.” 

The boy started up. “Don’t you see? He 
[ 27 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


was hungry too. There I was eating a splendid 
meal in your kitchen and he was out in the cold. 
I had forgotten him, a pal that had helped me 
as long as he had a cent. The noise — our signal 
— recalled me, made me ashamed, and I — I 
did — what you saw.” 

“ But how came you down, hurt, lying mit the 
scratching vines? ” 

“ He — he was mad. He said I had queered 
the whole game, and he was through with me. 
But he would put me to sleep first so I could n’t 
teU which way he went.” 

Mrs. Schmitz rose. “ It iss enough. You come 
mit me. One good hot bath mit plenty of soap 
shall wash away the thief, outsides and insides. 
You sleep one night in my house; tomorrow we 
talk.” She walked across to the boiler and 
touched it. “ It iss hot. Come ! ” 

Blitzen started up and licked her hand, at 
which she cast a quick look of distrust at the boy. 
“ Did you tie up mine dog? ” 

[ 28 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“No. Jim did.” 

“Ach! So? He iss a goot dog. Come.” 
Her face beamed with good feeling as she led 
the boy off to minister to him as his own mother 
might have done. 

Sydney returned to his room to sleep out the 
remainder of the night; but sleep did not come 
quickly. The last thing he heard was Mrs. 
Schmitz’s cheery “ Sleep goot ” at the door of 
the best chamber. And with that up leaped again 
in Sydney’s heart the demon, jealousy. 

The best chamber! There were two others 
untenanted. In all the months since his coming 
he had not once questioned the generosity of his 
hostess because he had the most nieanly furnished 
chamber in the house. Indeed he knew very 
little of the great rambling structure that had 
grown like the chambered nautilus, by larger and 
ever larger additions. It was just as Mrs. 
Schmitz had bought it. Glimpses through open 
doors revealed nothing to Sydney’s untrained 
[ 29 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


eyes beyond a succession of beds, rugs or car- 
pets, and chairs. But he did know that the large 
room over the living room opened upon a spa- 
cious, wisteria-himg porch and was called the 
best chamber; and he resented its possession by 
the thief. 

It was after nine when he opened his eyes on 
a brilliant morning, the winter sun streaming 
into the room with the warmth of May. He 
hopped out and dressed hastily, whistling gayly, 
his yellow humor quite forgotten till Mrs. 
Schmitz appeared asking for clean underwear 
and other artieles for the new comer. 

“ We will give him the best we have, Seedney, 
till he iss well. Seek people do n’t like rags nor 
dirt.” 

Silently and not very readily he selected from 
his own ample if not elegant wardrobe the pieces 
she asked. Perhaps it was not strange that he 
was ungracious. He had fought for his crust 
and disputed the wall side of a warm grating 
130 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


with others in as desperate case as himself; and 
that does not breed readiness to welcome new- 
comers of doubtful character. 

Yet Sydney himself was puzzled by this emo- 
tion. He had never grudged things before. He 
had usually been ready to share the crust he 
fought for. Why could he not feel kinder to this 
boy, Max? Thoroughly ashamed, he determined 
to discipline himself. 

At the late breakfast the boy told more of 
himself, yet nothing that revealed his past; and 
his hostess did not ask it, but pressed the good 
food on him, as pleased to see him eat as if he 
had been her own son. 

“ Already are you better! ” she exclaimed, 
delighted, as they rose from the table. “ Not 
once have you coughed.” 

“ I ’d be ill-bred to disturb such a breakfast 
with coughing.” He made a little bow and 
stepped back for her to pass. 

Sydney could see that the speech, the bow, 
[ 31 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


everything Max did with such an air of elegance, 
was quite natiu-al, quite unconsciously done. 
And in the parlor where every Sunday morning 
after breakfast Mrs. Schmitz and Sydney sang 
together, the new boy proved by every word and 
movement that he had been born to a refinement 
that Sydney believed beyond his own greatest 
eifort to acquire. 

Here as all over the house the fmrniture was 
incongruous, though, differing from that in Syd- 
ney’s room, it was expensive and modern. But 
three things stood for culture; the grand piano, 
a violin in its case, and a mahogany music cabinet 
filled with music. 

“You can sing?” she questioned; “or play 
the violin? ” she added, seeing his glance fixed 
upon it. 

“ I have n’t much of a voice, but I used to play 
a little.” 

She crossed the room to take the instrument 
from its ease, but stood motionless for a moment, 
rs2] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


her back to the boys, her hands hanging limp. 
When at last she did bring it to view, her hands 
were trembling. Each touch was a caress; and 
when she adjusted the bow and placed the violin 
in position to time, Sydney heard her sigh. 

But when she handed it to Max her face was 
serene and her voice steady. “ Try it. Mine 
father’s it was; I have many years ago played 
the piano for him. When he died they sent it 
to me mit much music ant mine fine dresses I 
wore in Germany.” 

Max took the violin with a reverence that 
pleased her, and tried the strings with delicate, 
accustomed fingers. “ It is a fine one, a Cre- 
mona!” he added with an excitement Sydney 
saw no reason for; he didn’t know one fiddle 
from another. 

But Mrs. Schmitz did. She knew much about 
music, instruments, and composers. And here 
was some one else who could speak the same 
language, and with his instrument too, as 
[ 33 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sydney could see by the way he tuned it and 
played little snatches of this or that, while she 
nodded and beamed. 

“ Ach, goot! Your hant ant head ant heart 
sind all one mit music! ” 

From under the shelf of the cabinet she drew 
a pile of violin music and began to run it over 
rapidly, pronoimcing the foreign names with no 
more ease than Max, who caught a passage from 
one, or hummed a snatch from another; and 
presently they were speaking in German, both 
excited, gesticulating, happy. 

Sydney was as much out of it as if the lan- 
guage were Hindoo. In school he had done well. 
Through the interest of Mr. Streeter, a young 
man recently come into a fortune, who devoted 
it and his time to assisting boys who were other- 
wise on the way to being “ down and out,” and 
through the kindness of Mrs. Schmitz, Sydney 
had been able to press on in his grades. Now at 
the beginning of the winter semester he stood 
[S4] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

with Billy Bennett, “ Sis” Jones, Queen Bess, 
and all the others who made his world, seniors 
in the “ Fifth Avenue High,” side by side, 
respected and liked. 

But suddenly Sydney realized in the presence 
of this stranger, so sinisterly introduced into that 
quiet life, that there was a great area of culture 
for which no public school can issue diplomas. 
As a child speaks its native tongue nor knows 
when he learns it, so Max spoke the language of 
refined society, of an early home environment 
that comes only from generations of good breed- 
ing and comfortable income. 

Sydney’s eyes were opened in another quar- 
ter. He had always found kindness and tmder- 
standing in Mrs. Schmitz, and that exquisite 
neatness that is the mark of a gentlewoman; 
but he had not seen behind her eccentricities. It 
had never occurred to him that the industrious 
woman who spent her days with pots and flowers 
had once lived differently. Though her fingers 
[ 35 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


had brought marvelous music from the ivory 
keys, he had not seen far beyond the split nails — 
marks of her toil. 

Now he sawl And he suddenly knew she had 
met a kindred spirit. 

“Come, Seedney,” she called half an horn* 
later; “ we ’ll sing now our songs.” 

If she had not gone and taken his hand he 
would not have stirred, so foreign to them did 
he feel. But she must have divined that, for she 
piilled him forward, and not without pride in her 
tone, said, “ This iss mine only pupil. Some day 
he will make me very proud.” 

They sang a number of simple songs, ending 
with some hymns. Max adding a rather thin 
voice while he played the air, or again, some deli- 
cate obligato. 

“ You have a splendid voice,” he said heartily 
to Sydney when Mrs. Schmitz finally left them 
together. “ Four or five years’ work would put 
you on the stage — if you care for that.” 

[S6] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ I never thought of it. Something else would 
fit me better, I guess.” 

“Geel She’s great, isn’t she?” Max said 
under his breath, nodding toward the door where 
Mrs. Schmitz had disappeared. “ How is it she 
is just drudging — cooking, washing dishes? 
She should never use her hands but to play.” 

Sydney looked again at the stranger. Some 
vague notion he, too, had had in regard to Mrs. 
Schmitz’s past, when she must have been taught 
by masters and spent long hours at the piano; 
but it never occurred to him that she was out of 
place in a new city, “ running ” a greenhouse and 
working twice as many hours as her men did. 
But this boy who had crept in at her pantry win- 
dow to steal from her, through one half hour’s 
music, understood her better than Sydney in half 
a year’s sojoiun in her house. The discovery 
gave him a feeling of inadequacy, as if he had 
been xmkind to her, had failed in fealty to her. 

Max toyed with the violin a little longer; 

[ 37 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


looked over the music, now and then drawing a 
breath of sweetness from the strings, and speak- 
ing a running accompaniment all the while, so 
easy in word and movement, so fluent, that each 
moment he became more and more an enigma to 
the other. 

Sydney foimd himself telling freely the little 
he knew of Mrs. Schmitz, her kindness to him, 
her generosity, her many eccentricities, one of 
which was her aversion to girls. “ She can’t bear 
even to hear about them.” 

“ Did she ever have a daughter? And where ’s 
her husband? ” 

“ She’s lost both.” 

Before Max could reply he was shaken with a 
paroxysm of coughing, the severest of the morn- 
ing, yet light compared with those of the night 
before, so much had warmth and food done 
toward banishing the spectre, tuberculosis. 

“ Come upstairs with me while I do up my 
room. I ’ll do yom-s too this morning. After 

[ 38 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


that we’ll get out in the sun; that’s the best 
medicine you can have.” 

“Do — do up your room? Do you make 
beds? ” 

“ Why not? Do you think I ’d let her? ” 

“No — no, of course not. But why doesn’t 
she have a maid? ” 

“ She has a woman to wash and clean two or 
three times a week.” 

“ She — she does all the rest ? And takes boys 
to board? ” 

“ Yes.” Sydney was having his eyes still more 
opened. “The work in this house is nothing; 
she spends most of her time in the nursery.” 

Max followed his leader upstairs, asking no 
more questions, but watching Sydney, aston- 
ished, as he went deftly through the morning 
work. Once or twice Max moved a chair, or 
tried to help with a blanket, but his awkwardness 
was so apparent that he laughed at himself. 

“ How did you learn? ” 

[ 39 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ She taught me.” 

“ But this is n’t boys’ work any more than 
washing dishes.” 

“ Why not? Does n’t a boy sleep in a bed and 
eat his food from dishes? Why should n’t he do 
such work if it’s to save some one better than 
he is? Mrs. Schmitz for instance? ” 

“ That ’s right. But does n’t it make you feel 
a little — sissy like? ” 

“ The manliest chap I know, Billy To-morrow 
— Billy Bennett — is n’t ashamed to do any sort 
of work to save his mother and sisters. They 
used to be poorer than they are now.” 

Max said nothing for a time. Then he broke 
out with, “ How did you come to this snug berth 
anyhow? ” 

Sydney told him that Mr. Streeter had seen 
Mrs. Schmitz’s advertisement of a good home 
for a boy who would be steady, do a little light 
work, and be company for her at night. “ She 
wasn’t afraid, never was; but she told Mr. 

[401 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

Streeter she wanted some one to look at across the 
table when she ate.” 

Max went to the window and looked out a 
moment, then he whirled and strode back to Syd- 
ney. “ Here! Show me how you do everything! 
I will learn — beat you to it pretty soon — if I 
can.” He laughed almost joyously and Sydney 
felt only sincerity in it. “ I ’m going to accept 
her offer of a home till I get over this cough; 
but it shall not be for nothing. If I can’t render 
service for value received, I ’ll — ” His face 
darkened to a thought Sydney saw he had enter- 
tained before. “ I ’ll put this mug where it won’t 
need feeding.” 

“Shut up! You ’re no quitter. Put a few of 
her good dinners into you, and you ’ll be ready 
to buck any game coming.” 

“ I believe you. But it won’t be her dinners 
alone; it ’s herself. She radiates something good 
besides food.” 

Sydney clapped him on the shoulder. “ I ’m 

[ 41 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


glad you like her. I am not able to speak of her 
as you do, but I — I think she ’s the best ever.” 
He turned away, ashamed that he could not find 
words to say what he wished. He seemed the 
more dumb because of Max’s fluency. 

“ Is this the way you do the trick, Mr. Blan- 
ket-slinger? ” Max asked, catching up a sheet 
and flapping it wide but crookedly over the 
mattress. 

“ No. It ’s wrong side up and end to.” 

“ How do you tell that? ” 

Sydney showed him the right side of the hem 
that came uppermost, and the wide hem desig- 
nating the upper end of the sheet. 

Max thanked him and carefully flimg the 
other sheet to place. 

“ That goes wrong side up. Ttmi it over.” 

** For the love of Inverarity, why? ” 

“ Right sides go together.” 

“Why? Does one side of a sheet feel any 
different from another?” 

[ 42 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ It does to her. Anyway there ’s a reason, 
it ’s the right way. I never asked her why.” 

“ I will then. I want to IcQOW all about it.” 

They finished up the two rooms and Max pro- 
posed to “ do ” Mrs. Schmitz’s as well. 

“ No. Here ’s where we stop. I do n’t go 
into her room any more than if it was in another 
house.” 

Max stared at him a second and nodded com- 
prehendingly, when they went down and out 
into the sunshine. 

“ How strange to see the grass green and the 
trees budding in January.” 

“ Strange? Then you come from the East. 
It seems queer to me not to see flowers every- 
where; and it’s awfully cold up here.” 

“ Is it so warm in California? ” 

“ In spots. You can find all the climates 
there. I never stepped on snow till I came here, 
to the City of Green Hills; and there’s very 
little here.” 


[ 43 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


They walked up and down the narrow paths 
in the nursery, examining the sprouting cuttings 
growing in close rows, and the long heaped rows 
of earth where the bulbs would soon send forth 
their green shoots, Sydney freely giving of his 
small fund of information. 

Suddenly from the farther end where the 
nursery abutted against a vacant block well hid- 
den under a thick young forest growth, a voice 
hailed them, and a sinister face peered from 
behind a fir tree. 

“ Come with me, or I ’ll make it hot for all 
that outfit you’re with, you — He ended 
with imprintable oaths. 

“That’s he! I must go! If I don’t he’ll 
hiui her — rob — or burn ! ” Max gave Sydney 
a look of utter disappointment and started off. 


[ 44 ] 


CHAPTER III 


T) EFORE Max could go more than a few 
steps Sydney pulled him about. “ What? 
Going without saying good-by to her? Even 
I have more manners than that.” 

“ But she won’t let me go if I tell her. I — 
you must ” 

“ No matter. You come with me.” Sydney 
turned, and calling to the man who had with- 
drawn behind the leafy screen, “ He ’ll see you 
later,” drew Max, resisting, along with him. It 
was not unpleasant to Sydney to feel his 
superior strength; to know this one advantage 
over the boy who unconsciously proved himself 
superior in so many ways. 

They went in and told Mrs. Schmitz. 

‘‘You be not afraid. Stay by me. If he 
comes we are three — ” 

[ 45 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ No, no! It is you I care for. He may set 
fire — ” 

“ Shoo out of this! You do what I tell you. 
I have here no leetle boys not minding me. In 
there iss books; go to ’em. After dinner we ’ll 
talk.” 

She intended no slang as they knew; and a 
rich odor came from the Sunday dinner already 
on the way. Memories of cold and himger and 
dreary wanderings decided Max. “ Thank you,” 
he said, and went into the sitting room. “ To- 
night I shall not sleep but watch.” 

“And I with you,” Sydney endorsed ear- 
nestly, throwing a glance that was fonder than he 
knew in the direction of her who was in both their 
minds. 

In the quiet afternoon Mrs. Schmitz tried to 
banish Max’s fear of the skulking prowler. “ I 
will tell the police of him.” 

“ No, no! Please do n’t. He will make them 


take me too.” 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Yes, that also may come true. We will let 
the policeman be.” 

“ Yet you still have the money in the house.” 

“ Also I am not afraid.” 

“ But I am for you.” 

“ Forget me. Yourself, not him, you must 
consider.” 

“ Myself? ” Max was mystified. 

“ Yes. Suppose you steal from me fifty — 
even five dollars, or one. It iss only money. I 
do not cry. I do not starve, have shame. But 
you?” 

“ I go to jail,” he said after her significant 
pause, his eyes downcast. 

“You do worse. You steal from yourself. 
You steal not money but much more, your inno- 
cence. With fifty or five dollars you have your- 
self a new name bought — thief! No money 
buys that word back. It makes one long, bloody 
cut into your soul. Before it gets well you have 
a very long time in the hospital of work— -if 
[471 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


you have the good luck to find that hospital. 
Before you have paid back to yourself that fifty 
dollars worth of self-respecting, you have great 
shame and sorrow mit yourself.” 

Max did not speak, and she busied herself in 
making orderly the book-littered table. 

“When you steal to eat I call you not a 
thief; hungry creatures are crazy. Ant I judge 
not anybody. Yet I think so long as you are 
afraid of thief s you have still some robbing in 
your heart. What you think? ” 

Max fidgeted in his chair, rose, walked to the 
window, and looked out into the sunshine for a 
second, then he turned back to her, looking fear- 
lessly in her eyes. “ Last night I was a thief I 
But today — now — I am not. The wound is 
there, in my soul certainly; and I ’ll carry the 
scar always, I know that. But there ’ll never be 
another.” 

She caught his hand in both her own and her 
smile was good to see. “ Goot! I belief you. 

[ 48 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Have no more fear. By me you stay, get well, 
go to school mebbe. Nicht wahr? " 

“ If I stayed at home I would have graduated 
from the high school in four months. I ’d like to 
go again. But first I must earn some money.” 

“ Y ou need no money mit me. Before you are 
strong to work you can study.” 

“ You are so good to me. Yet I need some 
money right away. I — ” 

“ Iss it much? I can lend you some.” 

“ No, no! I must not borrow it; I must earn 
it. Is there no light work in your nursery I 
could do at once? ” 

She smiled. “ All people look for light work. 
That iss^ — skilled work. Mine leetle plants, 
like tender child, must be very gently touched, 
ant mit love. If you like I ’ll teach you.” 

“ Thank you. But if you have the trouble 
of teaching me it will be some time before I shall 
be worth wages. I ’ll think about it.” He 
turned away still perplexed, knowing she saw it. 

[ 49 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


But whatever she thought, she encouraged him 
cordially. “We ’ll talk no more of this ever, till 
you yomself ask me. Now you have one thing 
to do, make friends mit health. Then I think 
iss time to make money.” 

He thanked her again and was silent for a 
time, appearing to read ; hut when he and Sydney 
were alone Max divulged his immediate need for 
money. “ I Ve got to pay something I owe — 
just got to.” 

Sydney hesitated, trying to see with the other 
boy’s eyes. “ I know how you feel. All the 
time I was rustling papers — on my uppers most 
of the time — I had to keep thinking of my 
father’s rule of life, * No Bremmer ever takes 
something for nothing.’ ” 

“ I should say that was a mighty good rule.” 

“ Yes, but a mighty hard one sometimes. If 
it had n’t been for that I guess I ’d have gone 
bad more ’n I did. Anyway I ’ve slept hungry 
many a night because of it.” 

[ 50 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Well, I ’ve taken something for nothing; 
and that ’s what I want to wipe out of my life.” 

“ Gee ! I bet Pop Streeter can do the trick 
for you. Good old Pop.” 

Max asked about Mr. Streeter, and Sydney 
explained, “ He ’s to the good on every count ; 
and I have a hirnch he can do something for you. 
Ever play in public? ” 

“ No; only for my — for friends.” 

“Well, there’s a new moving-pictmre-show 
house going up near the Fifth Avenue High. I 
know the man that ’s building it; he owns another 
show down the street, the best shows in town he 
has, — even the teachers approve them, so you 
can see they ’re O. K. Well, the way you pet 
those fiddle strings I bet you can play for him.” 

“ Thank you for so much confidence in my 
ability.” There was a faint hint of patronage in 
his tone. 

“No confidence in you,” Sydney returned a 
little sharply. “ My judgment ’s worth nothing; 
[sil 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


but Mrs. Schmitz knows good music, and when 
she praises a musical guy he has to have the stuff 
in him; I Ve lived here long enough to learn 
that.” 

“ How soon will the house be finished? ” 

“ The opening is advertised for a week from 
next Friday. Mr. Fox wants a special program 
of music. You come with me to see Mr. Streeter 
tomorrow — I ’ll make the appointment right 
now.” He hurried to the telephone without 
waiting to learn Max’s wishes in the matter, but 
Mr. Streeter was not in. 

Max showed relief. He had not Sydney’s 
initiative, bom from the life of the street, where 
advantage must be seized the instant it appears; 
though Max coiild think and act quick under 
great stress. 

Sydney, undiscouraged by several failures, 
reached Mr. Streeter late at night and made an 
engagement for Max for the next evening. 

Max, advised by Mrs. Schmitz, took the violin. 

[ 52 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


What occurred during that interview Max never 
divulged. Max resented a little Mr. Streeter’s 
keen questions, though later he realized that they 
meant only justice to Mrs. Schmitz, whose kind 
heart sometimes overruled her judgment. 

Max knew his reticence in regard to his fam- 
ily prejudiced Mr. Streeter against him, but held 
to his course; and in spite of this was able to leave 
a fairly favorable impression. This was increased 
during an evening at Mrs. Schmitz’s home, when 
the two musicians won him with their art; and 
Max’s bearing then coimted still more in his 
favor. 

Each passing day left visible improvement in 
his health. His cough decreased, his cheeks 
filled, his color was better, and his step was no 
longer languid or nervously rapid. Every ap- 
parent symptom of tuberculosis that might have 
frightened the ignorant was vanishing, and on 
its heels came a courage to meet life that Max 
had almost lost. 


[ 53 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

When they read of the apprehension and con- 
viction for a term of years of a thief that Max 
recognized as the “pal” that had sworn ven- 
geance, the lines of unboyish care left his face, 
and he began to whistle at his work. 

Sydney did not know how deep an impression 
his simple motto, “ Never take something for 
nothing,” had made upon Max, who had thought 
the opposite, “Take all you can get and give as 
little as possible,” was the law of business from 
day laborers to railroad wreckers. 

He did not know that business is built upon 
an idea, confidence; that the commercial life of 
the nation would have failed, and siu’ely would 
fail, were not the majority of men honest, and 
willing to let the “ other fellow ” also make some- 
thing. 

Mrs. Schmitz read what was passing in his 
mind and encomaged his attempts at helpfid- 
ness. At first he did not see that his efforts were 
awkward; her kindness disguised that. By the 

[ 54 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


time he was skilled enough to realize his fail- 
ures he was no longer sensitive about them. 
When in his experiments in cookery he salted the 
soup from the sugar jar, he laughed with the 
others and ate his own plateful to the last bit. 

Mr. Streeter’s good words and Max’s own skill 
easily won him a place on the program for the 
opening night of the theater. And he did so 
well that the manager signed a contract for two 
weeks, which resulted in more money than he had 
seen for many months. Some of it he tried to 
pay to Mrs. Schmitz, but she refused it. 

“ Just a little, won’t you? Make me feel less 
a beggar? ” he coaxed. 

“ First you pay what — what you say you 
must — ” She hesitated. 

“ There ’s more than enough — to do — what 
I must before I can go to school, or even work 
for you.” 

Mrs. Schmitz i^owed no curiosity concerning 
this thing that was shadowing him, but instead 

[ 55 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


gave him trust and encouragement which he felt 
in all she said or did. When he was able to set 
at his task he knew he would never have had the 
courage but for her. 

This took coin-age for it was nothing less than 
an attempt to pay for stolen food. It was a 
rather quixotic scheme perhaps; but the thought 
was bom of his serious talk with Mrs. Schmitz. 
He believed he could never wipe out the stain of 
the name of thief, till he had made restitution. 

He knew well the places where ice boxes on 
open porches had tempted him; there were three. 
He planned to go boldly to the front door and 
ask for the gentleman of the house. Already he 
had learned the names of the householders ; 
learned the dinner hour at each place. He would 
go immediately after that, before anyone would 
be leaving or arriving. 

He had two reasons for selecting this hour, the 
man would be at leisure, and it would be dark. 
Max would not be plainly seen. He hoped that 

[ 56 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the hall lights would be dim also. It would be so 
much harder to go in daylight and thus brand 
himself in the eyes of those who otherwise would 
never know he robbed them. But sending money 
in a letter seemed cowardly. Now that his con- 
science was roused it compelled him to the extreme 
course. 

At the two first places all went as he had 
planned. At the summons of the maid the man 
came to the door, showed surprise at the strange 
request, refused at first to accept pay, but finally 
did so, compelled by Max’s perseverance. 

The third night it was diiferent. A stripling, 
evidently the spoiled son of the household, in- 
sisted on knowing the business that demanded 
his father’s attention. 

“ It ’s private.” 

“ Nothing private from me. Come in and spit 
it out. I ’ll do just as well as the pater; he’s 
resting now.” 

“ Then I ’ll come another night,” Max said, 

[ 57 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


and was turning away, when a heavy voice called 
to them. 

“ What ’s wanted there; do n’t keep that door 
open. Ask him in.” 

“ All right, dad. You hear? ” the supercilious 
youth said to Max. “ You ’U have to come in.” 

And Max, not knowing what else to do, 
entered the spacious hall, hat in hand, hoping if 
he kept still the man would appear. 

He did not. Instead he called again: “ Bring 
your friend into the library, Walter.” 

There was nothing else but to obey. Through 
the doorway as they approached Max saw a child 
start up from a low seat beside her father and 
come toward the two boys, a beautiful little ^rl 
of six or seven. 

“ Come with me, kitten,” the young man said, 
a tenderness in his tone that surprised Max. 

Dad has business on hand. Dottle.” 

She ran to him catching his hand in both of 
her own, and danced beside him as he slowly 
[ 58 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


crossed the room, which was small but richly fur- 
nished and lined with well-filled book cases. 

A fire crackled cheerily, and a large man, 
with slippered feet to the blaze, lounged in a 
deep easy-chair. 

He looked up interrogatively, waiting for Max 
to speak. The boy did not know this for an 
insolent trick of “cute” business. Ensconced 
in his own lair, this moment of inhospitable 
silence on the part of the magnate was in itself 
an accusation, a test of strength, with a handi- 
cap on the newcomer. 

The boy felt keenly this slap on the face. A 
quick glance at the visibly inquisitive youth, how- 
ever, restored Max a trifle, for he felt quite his 
equal. Yet he had to summon all his “ spunk ” 
to open his dry lips and speak. 

“ I have a httle business with you, Mr. Buck- 
man; may I speak to you alone? ” 

“ Walter, go and tell your mother to be ready 
in ten minutes, or we ’ll be late. Now what is it. 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


young man? ” he questioned a little impatiently 
as the others left the room. 

Max told his story; told it imder the pitiless 
glare of many lights; told it haltingly, shame- 
facedly; and he was angry at himself for doing 
so badly. Why could he not speak up clearly, 
fearlessly, as he had spoken before? 

The man looked him over silently. “ So you ’re 
a thief, are you? ” he said scornfully. “ A fool 
to hoot, I should say. Why in thunder did you 
blurt it out? Why didn’t you keep quiet, and 
if you must pay conscience money, send it 
through the mail? ” 

“ Because I was a thief! I thought then I ’d 
rather steal than starve. But a kind woman 
made me ashamed of that. It is not so much to 
pay you, sir, what you never could have collected, 
as to regain my own self-respect that I did not 
send the money, but came myself to pay it.” 

The man looked at him keenly, plainly inter- 
ested now, but was still silent; and Max felt 
[ 60 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


himself probed to his last thought. “ That took a 
good deal of courage,” the man said at length. 
“ How much do you think you owe me? ” 

“ You must be the judge of that.” He told 
what food he took. 

“ How do I know that is all? ” 

Max flushed. This grilling burned his soul. 
“ You could ask your cook. It happened three 
weeks ago last Thursday night.” 

The man smiled. “ I guess you ’re straight. 
What do you think the stuff is worth? ” 

Max’s temper was up. Depressed at first, he 
was angry now, and answered the man a trifle 
defiantly. “ In business the man who pays does 
not set the price, but the man who sells. In this 
case I am at your mercy. You can have me 
apprehended on my own confession, and what- 
ever I say now will prejudice you against me. 
The food I took measured by the value of the 
peace of mind I shall have when I know it is paid 
for, is worth more money than I shall be able to 
[ 61 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


earn in many years. Measured by its cost to you 
I have no means of knowing its value because I 
only saw a little of it.” 

“ How is that? ” 

“ I snatched all I could carry, gave most of it 
to one himgrier than I, and ran as fast and as 
far as I could.” 

“ Then you were really hungry? You did not 
rob for fun, or hoping to find more valuable 
stuff? ” 

“ Fun! I cannot conceive of anyone doing 
that.” 

The man was considering. “ Hungry! As 
a boy I don’t remember when I wasn’t hun- 
gry. But I always had three square meals with 
‘ pieces ’ besides. How long had you gone with- 
out eating? ” 

“ Twenty-four hours.” 

“ Why did n’t you get work? ” 

“Have you any work I could do?” Max 
inquired eagerly. 


[ 62 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Taken unawares the man fell into the trap. 
“No. Business is slack and I am pushed to 
keep my men busy as it is. Even had to dis- 
charge some.” 

“ That ’s your answer, sir. I have hunted work 
for two months.” 

“ Got any now? ” 

“Yes; and a prospect of its being permanent. 
The lady I told you of will teach me the nursery 
business if I ’m not too stupid to learn; but she 
insists that I shall go to school at the same time.” 

“ Does she know — of what you are doing 
now? ” 

“No, sir. When I go home — ” Suddenly 
something swelled in his throat and for a second 
he could not go on. Home! It was a home; and 
Mrs. Schmitz, more than a benefactress, gave 
him the affection and understanding of a mother. 
“ She knows I am — that I have stolen things,” 
he went on haltingly ; “ but she trusts me ; and I 
shall tell her that I have — have made good — 
[ 63 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


if you ’ll let me. Won’t you please give me the 
chance, sir? ” 

“By George, I will! You’ve got the stuff 
for a real man in you. Suppose we call it square 
at a dollar? ” 

“ That ’s not enough.” 

“ It is if you gave away most of the food. I 
won’t take pay for what the other fellow ate.” 

Max saw that it was best to yield though he 
was not easy as to the sum; but he handed over 
the dollar and turned to go. The man rose and 
went, to the door with him, shaking hands 
cordially. 

“You’ve done a plucky thing, young man; 
and before you are in the way of having to steal 
again for lack of work, come to me at my office.” 

He gave street and number as he walked 
down the hall to open the outer door, and prob- 
ably did not hear, as Max did, a faint footstep 
and a rustling of the portieres as they passed 
along. 


[ 64 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


All the way home Max speculated on that fur- 
tive noise; but quite forgot it in the joy of 
the sense of freedom that came when he met 
Sydney and Mrs. Schmitz, and knew he had 
the right to look them fairly in the eyes. 


[65 1 


CHAPTER IV 



HAT furtive, rustling noise in Mr. Buck- 


^ man’s dimly lighted hall haunted Max for 
days, filling him with a vague imeasiness he called 
foolish, but could not forget. Yet after a time 
youth and returning health relegated the memory 
to some niche in the mind’s storehouse; and life 
became full of interest and wholesome occupa- 
tion, driving out apprehension. 

A little more than a week after his engage- 
ment at the “ show house ” had terminated, and 
he had made the senior class at the “ Fifth 
Avenue High,” Billy Bennett’s ringing voice 
came over the wire. 

“ Is Mumps there? ” it asked, and Sydney 
heard it across the room. 

“ Tell your friend a better name to call you; 
that is a sick one. I smell the drug store now! ” 


[ 66 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Mrs. Schmitz laughed as she put down the 
receiver and started out. 

“ Billy Tomorrow can call me any old name; 
he ’s all right! ” Sydney shouted after her; and 
into the telephone he cried, “ Hello, Billy To- 
morrow! What ’s up today? ” 

“ The Queen says you Ve turned her down. 
She ’s all fussed up beeause you refuse to come 
to her party. She can’t think what she ’s done to 
disquiet you.” 

The Queen, otherwise Bess Carter! The one 
girl of all girls for Sydney. Yet he could never 
hold up his head when she spoke to him; and if 
he saw her coming he always edged away. 

“ She ’s done nothing but all right, Billy. 
She ’s always to the good ; but I — I — oh, hang 
it! You know, Billy, I ’m no girl’s guy.” 

“ Rats! You do n’t have to be a girl’s guy to 
go to her party. Have n’t we all played together 
as kids? Roughed it together at camp, and 
worked together at the school rallies? It ’s just 
[ 67 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


a chin-fest along the same old lines with a little 
music and dancing thrown in; a lot rather. And 
she wants the quartette.” 

“ Gee! ” Sydney said no more, but his inflec- 
tion carried assent. 

“ AH right. I thought you ’d see it that way.” 

“ I have n’t said I ’d go,” Sydney broke in. 

“ Oh, yes, you have. You ’re not the laddie 
to spoil the Queen’s evening by breaking up the 
quartette, the feature she’s most counting on, 
she says.” 

“ If I go will you help me to ask a question of 
Bess?” 

“ Sure, what is it? ” 

“ I ’ll tell you when I see you.” 

Billy did not misjudge his friend, though he 
could have no conception of the agony of bash- 
fulness Sydney endured at merely the thought of 
meeting a lot of girls in their evening frocks. 

“You know I ’ve no glad rags for evening, 
Billy.” 


[ 68 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ No matter. You have good enough. None 
of us are going in for opera hats and patent 
leathers; that is, only the Fussers. Will you 
come to dinner with me tonight and stay for 
rehearsal? ” 

“All right. Thank you. Say, Billy! Hello, 
Billy!” 

“ Hi, there! Thought you had finished,” Billy 
returned after a shght wait. “ Hello ! ” he called 
again as Sydney did not answer. 

In that hesitant moment Sydney decided to 
abandon his intention of asking an invitation for 
Max. With his aiiy, sophisticated manner, his 
good looks, his playing. Max would be sure to 
win the heart of every one present. And then 
his cough — really he was not well enough. 

Thus jealousy argued; but in that flashing 
instant between Billy’s first and second “ Hello,” 
Sydney caught himself up; called himself a 
selfish, “pin-minded brute!” 

“ Jealous! That ’s what I am. Because I ’m 
[ 69 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


short and thick instead of slender and elegant as 
Max is; have mud-colored hair and no-colored 
eyes instead of a face clear and dark, with eyes 
that can talk without help from lips or tongue, 
as his can, I ’ll cut him out of a good time! 
Mumps, you ’re a last season’s egg! ” 

“ What ’s that you ’re rumbling. Is your 
tongue weak today? ” 

“ Nothing, Billy. I was giving myself a dose 
of mental ipecac, had something N. G. in my sys- 
tem, but it ’s out now.” 

“Well, in your state of good health what’s 
next? ” 

“ We ’ve got a — I mean I ’ve got a friend 
here, you met him. Max Ball. He ’s a violinist, 
a regular high C, Mrs. Schmitz says, a good 
looker and actor. May I bring him along? ” 

There was a word in reply, a short wait, and 
Billy’s voice came again. “ It ’s all right. 
Marms says bring him along, and sister says tell 
him to bring his violin.” 

[701 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Max received his invitation in silence ; a silence 
that piqued Sydney. “ If you do n’t care to 
meet my friends, say so. I ’ll tell Billy to count 
yom- plate off,” he said roughly. 

“ Do n’t take it that way. I appreciate the 
courtesy, believe me. Yet — ought I to accept? 
Suppose they knew — all about me, would they 
ask me just the same? Is it fair to them for you 
to take me? ” 

“ Gee! I never thought about that,” Sydney 
mused, glancing at Max with new respect. 

“Does Mrs. Schmitz know your friends?” 

“ Yes. She thinks they ’re fine folks.” 

“ Then we ’ll ask her.” 

Questioned, she too, thought a moment before 
replying, her eyes fixed on the doubting one. 
“ Max,” she began seriously, “ I have belief in 
you. I feel sure you will make goot. Sydney 
shall tell his friends that you are one dear friend 
of me. I stand for you.” 

Max gazed steadily back at her a second, then 
[ 71 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


laid his hand on hers. “ Thank you. I shall not 
shame you.” The words were simple but Syd- 
ney felt the earnestness in them; saw the mois- 
ture in the dark eyes, and turned aside to hide 
his own. He, too, was won, and promised him- 
self to believe in Max always. 

This was Max’s introduction to the delightful 
home where Billy Bennett and his mother lived 
with his married sister Edith and her husband, 
Mr. Wright. 

Through the dinner, which was perfectly 
served, Sydney watched Max with an envy he 
despised but could not conquer. Every word 
and move of the stranger lad proved that he had 
found his own. The way he spoke to the ladies, 
the confident, unconscious but correct use of the 
silver, a matter that made Sydney turn red with 
anxiety; Max’s low and different yet kind tone to 
the maid; his easy yet modest attitude toward 
Mr. Wright — everything was just right, Syd- 
ney acknowledged to himself. 

[ 72 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


How did he come by it? Sydney felt he could 
not in a thousand years acquire such a manner; 
and at the same time it seemed just then the one 
thing on earth worth having. Poor Sydney did 
not know; that many boys, even some reared in 
comfortable homes, are harassed in their years of 
development by a similar diffidence. He thought 
it was caused entirely by his lack of training. 

He could see that Max won them all, especially 
Mr. Wright, with whom he talked intelligently 
on current topics; and Mrs. Wright when they 
touched upon music, as well as Billy’s mother 
when she asked of Max’s own, and he replied that 
she was dead. Sydney could remember his own 
mother only dimly. He had not such a passion- 
ate love for her as he detected in Max’s low reply 
that was in no different tone from his other 
words ; yet its indefinable intensity told volumes 
about his heart feeling. 

After dinner Billy’s sister carried Max off to 
the piano and they had what Billy called an orgy 

[7S] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


of music, neither paying much attention to the 
rest in the room. 

Mr. Wright went to his den, and Mrs. Bennett 
disappeared, leaving Sydney alone with Billy. 
They settled among the cushions on a window 
seat where twinkling lights on the Sound below, 
as well as sharp little whistles, revealed the com- 
ing and going of many small steamers, part of 
the Mosquito Fleet that connects a thousand 
miles of Sound shore with the metropolis, the 
City of Green Hills. 

The moon sent a silver track across the dark 
water, and the distant, fir-fringed shores outlined 
dimly against the starlit west seemed the shad- 
owy ramparts of fairyland. 

Probably Billy appreciated the scene more 
deeply than Sydney, yet he saw it often, and 
consequently was the first to speak. 

“ What ’s the trick you want me to turn for 
you with Bess? ” 

At the telephone asking this favor from Billy 

[ 74 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


had seemed a little thing; now that the moment 
had come it was all but impossible. Yet he had 
delayed too long. It was nearly a month since 
the night of Max’s coming, the night when Syd- 
ney had determined to “ do something for Ida ” ; 
but he had let the days pass in inaction. This 
moment he was in for it. 

“ It ’s about Ida Jones. Do you know her? ” 

“ Just to bow; she is n’t in any of my classes.” 

“ She was in mine last year; when I moved up 
a grade at the beginning of this semester I left 
her back there in the juniors.” 

“ What about her? Evidently you have her 
beaten in the highbrow race.” 

“ It would n’t have been so if I had been 
obliged to work all summer as she did. You 
know the good old Pop fixed it for me. That ’s 
how I was able to study in vacation and make a 
class ahead.” 

“ Yes. But return to Miss Jones. And to 
Bess ; what ’s the relation? ” 

[ 76 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ I wish you ’d ask the Queen to invite Ida 
to her party. It would put her easy with her 
class if a senior, and such a senior as Miss Bess 
Carter, asked her to a party.” 

Billy laughed. “ Is that all? Ask her your- 
self. You carry good weight with her.” 

“ Billy! Billy Tomorrow! I ’ll never turn the 
trick in the world! You know I ’m tongue-tied 
when a girl shows up.” 

“Surely not so in the case of Miss Jones,” 
Billy chaffed. “ How did you learn her 
troubles? You must have chinned some with 
her.” 

“ She never told me her troubles. I have n’t 
spoken ten minutes with her altogether. But I 
can see — and hear.” 

“What?” 

“ That all the girls nod coldly when she passes; 
that none of them rim up and make love to her, 
or — ” 

“ Make love? Girls? What do you mean? ” 

[ 76 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Do n’t you see it all the time? Almost every 
girl in school is either on her knees in adoration 
of some other one, or is herself the adored one.” 

“Mumps! You’re getting classy! Both in 
language and in the matter of observation.” 
Billy clapped his friend on the shoulder in true, 
young-mannish fashion, a caress that would have 
floored one less sturdy. “ What do you hear? ” 

“ Oh, scraps of conversation spoken between 
chums, yet to the world in general. You know 
how it is with a certain kind of rich girl, she 
talks loud, as if she owned the earth and wanted 
all to know it.” 

“ Not all the rich ones though. May Nell 
Smith is the richest girl in school, but you can’t 
call her loud.” 

“ Surely not. And there are others of course. 
Perhaps I should have said the girl who wishes 
to be thought rich, or those who haven’t been 
so very long.” 

“ That ’s it. You can spot ’em. Father worth 

[ 77 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


half a million, half a pound of extra hair. Father 
worth — by report — twenty thousand, two 
pounds of the most startling hair.” 

Sydney took up the comparison. “ Father 
worth many millions and mother a lady, just her 
own hair worn — worn — Well, that ’s where I 
fall down. Bdly, how does Miss Smith wear 
her hair? ” 

Billy laughed. And how does Miss Jones? ” 

“ Oh, I do n’t know. It looks awfully easy. 
It ’s not bandaged like a broken head, and it ’s 
nicer than all those buns and cart wheels and 
things. It ’s curly.” 

“ How do you know that? ” 

“ Because often she wears no hat, and the 
more it rains the curlier it gets. That ’s the way 
with Max’s.” 

Billy sent a glance to the other visitor. 
“ There ’s surely some class to him.” He stared 
at Max a moment but came abruptly back to the 
question. “ Who is Miss Jones’ father? ” 

[ 78 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

“ She has neither father nor mother. She just 
takes care of herself; works right along for her 
board.” 

Billy whistled. “ That ’s the little joker that 
timns up the other girls’ noses.” 

“ But why? I work for my board. Every- 
body knows I was a stowaway on the San Fran- 
cisco steamship, or can know it ; I never tried to 
hide it. Did it make any difference with you fel- 
lows? With you or Reg Steele and yom* cousin 
Hec Price, who belong to the best people in the 
city, and the richest? No. You took me in the 
same as you took in Redtop and Sis Jones; and 
there ’s more class to any of the fellows in your 
set than to me. Do n’t I know that? ” 

“ That ’s where you ’re off the boulevard, old 
chap. You ’re in the class that has pluck and 
honesty and the capacity for friendship. That ’s 
a class by itself. You notice Walter Buckman 
does n’t figure large in high jinks engineered by 
Bess Carter or May Nell.” 

[ 79 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ But why do n’t the girls take in a friendless 
girl as you fellows took me? ” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Girls are different.” 
Billy could not answer that question. It was too 
large for him. It is too large for most people. 
We see a sweet young thing making herself 
ridiculous over the sufferings of a pampered cat, 
who yet will calmly stab to the heart with a cold 
stare some struggling girl who wears a last year’s 
frock and earns the bread she eats.” 

“ I give it up,” Billy said after awhile. “ But 
I ’ll tell you one thing; if Miss Jones is O. K. 
otherwise, working for her board won’t make any 
difference to Bess Garter, nor to May Nell.” 

“ I know that. It ’s why I am so anxious for 
Bess to invite her. Will you do it — get Bess 
to ask her?” 

“ Yes. That is, I ’ll tell Bess about her, and 
May Nell too.” 

“ Thank you.” 

** Gee! What a lever money is.” 

[ 80 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

“ Yes, for good or bad.” 

“ There ’s May Nell Smith. As soon as she 
grew strong enough to stand the strain of public 
school her father put her there because he wanted 
her to come in touch with all sorts of children; 
and see what she can do. She ’s just as sweet as 
ever, and her nod is law to the girls.” 

“ You ’d never know she was a rich man’s 
daughter by the way she dresses, Ida says.” 

“ You ’d know she was the daughter of a 
sensible woman though.” 

Sydney agreed, his heart quite at rest about 
Ida; and both sat quietly listening to the music. 
Neither realized the secrets of the great social 
fabric they had grazed, though Sydney continued 
in thought to follow the puzzle that provoked 
his question to Billy; why do girls — young 
women — treat each other as they do? 

This led back to the day many months earlier 
when a couple of squabbling boys, turning the 
high school corner, ran against a girl, almost 
[ 81 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


knocking her over, and sending her books flying 
on the wet walk. They were too occupied to 
notice their rudeness; but Sydney was in time to 
prevent her from falling and to restore her books. 

This was Ida Jones. Bashful as Sydney was, 
her gratitude unlocked his speech; and walking 
home with her he learned a little of her loneli- 
ness and struggle for an education. She prob- 
ably told Sydney more of her life than she would 
have told another, because his own life was so 
similar. And ever since there had been this bond 
of sympathy between them, though they rarely 
were together. 

Mrs. Wright’s enthusiastic voice recalled Syd- 
ney from his reveries. “ Mr. Ball plays! Makes 
real music! Sydney, you should be glad to live 
in the same house with him.” 

Sydney wondered if he was grateful. Again 
the mean little yellow fiend of envy stuck up its 
head, and he had his fight all over. 

“ I have persuaded him to play with the quar- 
[ 82 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

tette; it will be a splendid addition,” Mrs. 
Wright continued. 

Billy rose and shook hands with him, boy 
fashion, for Billy was still a boy at heart in all 
he did, yet a very lovable boy. “ That ’s all to 
the good. Welcome to the jolly six — jolly 
seven it will be, now you have joined.” 

“ You must bring Mrs. Schmitz over to some 
of the rehearsals. I shall call on her very soon. 
Do you think she ’d have time for me, Sydney? ” 

He was sure of it. 

“ And we shall drop the Mister and call you 
just plain Max, may we?” Billy questioned. 
“No one is allowed a handle to his name but her, 
my sister here. We have to permit that because 
she ’s married.” Billy nudged his sister, mischief 
in his eyes. 

Max bowed gravely. “ I shall be honored by 
your kindness.” 

Billy, a trifle awed by Max’s seriousness, 
could not know that the newcomer was feeling 
[ 83 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the weight of his responsibihty; was wondering 
if they would accept liim so cordially if they 
knew all. 

The other boys came, Charles Harper called 
Redtop because of his “ smiling” hair, a fine fel- 
low, well grown and with eyes that looked 
straight at his listener; and “ Sis ” Jones, Cicero 
really, but “ Sis ” in his set since the day he had 
been caught embroidering a pattern on the sail 
of the “Miss Snow,” Hector Price’s sailboat. 
Young Jones was as old as any of them and as 
plucky; but he was slender, blond, not very tall, 
and gave the impression of effeminacy. Yet cer- 
tain ones who knew said those small hands could 
grip like iron. 

His voice was the sweet, haimting tenor, while 
Sydney was second tenor. Charles sang a deep, 
rich bass, and Billy second bass. All-roimd 
utility man Billy called himself, since his voice 
was adaptable, and if his sister was prevented it 
was Billy who accompanied on the piano. He 
[ 84 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


was also librarian, sent out meeting notices, and 
otherwise, “ bossed the job,” to use his own words. 

The other member was Hugh Price, “ Squab,” 
BiUy’s short fat cousin. He had grown since 
the happy camping days at Lallula, but it seemed 
all laterally. His anxiety to gain height was 

i 

well known, and the most acceptable compliment 
one could pay him was to say, “ You ’re taller.” 
He played the flute — played it well. 

All welcomed Max cordially, and still more 
enthusiastically when they had heard him play.' 
And rapidly the two hours of practice passed; 
as a breath to Sydney, who not only loved to 
sing, but lived his happiest hours ,in this 
household. 

On the way home when the two boys, Max and 
Sydney, changed cars at a busy junction, they 
found the second car crowded at the rear end 
with high school students. They had evidently 
been somewhere in a body, and were noisy and 
restless, obstructing the passage way, playing 
[ 85 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

rough pranks, and acting as if they owned the 
car. 

“ Move up forward 1 ” the conductor repeated 
with no effect. 

The two edged slowly through, hindered by 
the wedged mass, and slyly tripped by a hidden 
foot. All knew Sydney and greeted him by his 
nickname ; but only one spoke to Max. 

“ Hello, young feller! What are you out of 
quod for? ” sneered that one in his ear. 

Max knew him. It was Walter Buckman, who 
had opened the door to him the night he went to 
pay for his stolen supper. As Max, trying to 
obey the conductor, pressed forward, one, insti- 
gated by Walter, pushed Sydney aside and 
jerked Max against a lady so adroitly that it 
seemed entirely Max’s fault. 

He righted himself, apologizing earnestly. 
But he had torn her dress and she was not very 
gracious. 

“Aw, you have to excuse a drunken man, 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


lady,” a noisy one called out, and again began 
the pushing and scuffling. 

“ Move up front there or I ’ll put you off! ” 
the conductor ordered more sternly. 

“ I ’d like to see you do it! ” one of the bolder 
threatened. 

Sydney saw Walter secretly urge the big fel- 
low on. 

The conductor was not afraid. He stopped 
the car right there, opened the gates, and col- 
lared the aggressor. 

But the students stood by their mate, and it 
would have gone hard with the conductor if one 
or two men had not risen quickly and faced them. 

“ You get off the car or we ’ll help him put 
you off! ” said one, a well known banker, a man 
of power in the city. 

The big fellow, seeing opposition was useless, 
stepped down, calling to the others to follow; but 
the conductor shut the gates, rang two bells, and 
again ordered the yoimg men forward. 

[ 87 ] 


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“ Buckman, you get forward there,” the same 
authoritative passenger ordered. “ You ’re the 
ringleader.” And to the lady of the tom dress 
he said, indicating Max, “ This yomig man is not 
at fault; it was those behind him. I saw them.” 

“ Stop at the next corner,” ordered Walter. 

The conductor was about to ring when the 
same man of authority said, “Conductor, go 
on.” And to the boys, “ You yoimg ruffians, get 
up forward there as ordered! ” 

“You can’t do that,” Walter began; “we ’ll 
have an action against the company. You can’t 
prevent a passenger getting off at any street he 
wants.” 

“ Very well. Bring your action. I *m presi- 
dent of the company, and I think, Walter Buck- 
man, that your father will not care to sue for 
you, not with these witnesses.” He whipped out 
a notebook and took the names and addresses of 
some of the passengers, the lady’s whose dress 
had been torn, and of one or two well-known men. 

[ 88 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sullenly the squad of trouble makers moved 
up the aisle. And as they passed Max, Walter 
leaned over and whispered in his ear, “ I ’ll get 
even with you for this.” 

Sydney heard the words. “ Do n’t get fussed 
up,” he said to Max. “ There ’s a few coming to 
him. That bunch isn’t out for any good, and 
Walt Buckman ought to be headed the other 
way this time of night. He lives the second door 
from Billy.” 

Max made no reply. Through the rest of the 
ride and while the two walked the block between 
the car line and the nursery, he was wondering 
what form Walter’s threat would take. And 
while he prepared for bed, and still more in 
troubled dreams, his imagination conjured grue- 
some pictures. 


[ 89 ] 


CHAPTER V 


T7^ OR many days Max observed Walter Buck- 
man closely but saw nothing suspicious 
except that he avoided meeting either Max or 
Sydney whenever possible. 

Weeks passed. The trees were budding and 
the garden borders were yellow with crocuses and 
daffodils. And with the spring came to Mrs. 
Schmitz, as to most women, the fervor of house- 
cleaning. She did this as everything else, with 
vigor and dispatch. 

“ Come mit me, Seedney; you have to move,” 
she said breezily as she pushed back from the 
early breakfast table one Satimday morning. 

Sydney looked up apprehensively. 

“ Have no fear,” she began smilingly, yet her 
face saddened a little. “ Poor boy! You have 
so often to move in yom life you are afraid of 
[ 90 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the word, nicht wahr? I send you not away. 
Think not so.” 

Sydney’s face cleared and he followed her 
upstairs. 

“ It iss here you will stay.” She stopped at 
the open door of a well furnished chamber, the 
second finest of the six sleeping rooms. 

“ Why? I am perfectly satisfied with my own 
place.” 

“ This iss your own place now.” 

“ But it is even finer than Max’s.” 

She looked at him keenly for a moment and 
dropped into a chair, “ Here by me sit; I speak 
mit you of something important.” For a little 
she was silent, and he knew she was striving to 
find words in the troublesome English that would 
correctly voice her thought. 

“ I wonder if you shall xmderstand what I am 
now to say? When you came to me you had not 
much luxruy seen; nicht wahr? Iss it not so? ” 
she translated quickly. 

[ 91 ] 


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Sydney smiled. “ Oh, surely! A warm dry- 
goods box to sleep in sometimes, a cheap board- 
ing house here in this city, and — ” he passed 
his hand across his eyes — “ and the time I spent 
with Billy Bennett at his cousin’s camp; that 
was real luxury.” 

Mrs. Schmitz nodded understandingly. “ But 
you have one time a home, a house, a mother? ” 

“Yes; but I hardly remember my mother. 
After she died pa was n’t much on the house- 
keeping, and we generally slept in a room some- 
wheres and ate roimd.” 

“ Not square? ” Her eyes twinkled, for she 
had no intention, as Sydney could see, that the 
conversation should be a sad one. 

“ Yes, round the square — at restamants,” he 
bandied. 

“So? I think that. Now when you came here 
by me I gave you my poorest room. I say to 
myself, this is for three times because. One be- 
cause, he iss not used to good things; he will feel 
[ 92 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


not so strange in a poor but comfortable room. 
Second because, I will see first how he treats 
mine fmniture. If he iss mitout care for it when 
it iss old, he will not be goot to it when it iss 
new. Ant third because, I will see if — if first 
he likes me.” She hesitated and averted her face. 
When she resumed her tone was apologetic, al- 
most difildent. “ An old woman who all alone 
lives gets pretty lonesome, seeing only people mit 
business. I think a goot boy will be company.” 

Sydney could never have told what made him 
do it; he was crushed with shame the moment it 
was over. With a quick gesture he reached out, 
caught up her fat, work-worn hand, and kissed 
her bare arm. 

Except Mrs. Bennett’s one motherly welcome, 
he had not given or received a kiss since his 
mother’s death; but in that illuminating instant 
he knew it was the shadowy memory of her 
caresses that made him understand Mrs. 
Schmitz’s loneliness; and a great hunger for 
[ 93 ] 


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affection that had been growing all his forlorn 
life broke forth in that mute kiss. 

“ Seedney! ” She drew his head to her and 
kissed him softly on the cheek. “We’ll be 
friends — always friends. Nicht ’wahr?” 

There was no excess of sentiment in her quiet 
tone; and in the kiss even less of the passion of 
the mother than his had held of the passion of a 
son. The words were rather the pledge of a great 
friendliness; a friendliness that would outlast 
every trial. It was a solemn moment to Sydney ; 
he felt as if an angel had been near. 

“ So now my three times because comes right, 
ant you take this room,” she declared. 

“ But it is too fine for me.” 

“ No. Nothing I have iss too fine for you. I 
want you to feel all the time tljat the whole world 
cannot give you too fine a thing. You are a man. 
God makes you. In his image he makes you. 
The best cannot be too good if — if you feel 
always you are a child of the Divine.” 

[ 94 ] 


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A new light came into Sydney’s mind; the light 
that breaks in any soul when first it realizes its 
divinity, its infinity. She had awakened Sydney. 

“ Where does it tell that? In the Bible? ” 

“Yes. Ant your own soul tells you if you 
listen right. I will show you also where to read. 
But not now — tomorrow. Today we work.” 

More she said as they moved Sydney’s pos- 
sessions, partly in answer to his wondering ques- 
tions, but more directly from her store of wisdom. 

“Du sollst deinen Naechsten lieben als dick 
selhst" she said musingly after a pause and did 
not know she was speaking in German till she 
saw Sydney’s look of perplexity. “ Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself,” she translated; 
“ but if you think yomself a poor, mean crea- 
ture, it iss not much goot to love somebody like 
yourself.” 

“ I never thought of it in that way,” Sydney 
observed. 

“ One thing I tell you — watch Max. Copy 

[ 95 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


him in manner; he iss a gentleman. Also his 
father, though he iss a hard man.” 

“ Ant also he loves Max but he shows it not 
right. The mutter — Ach, he has no mother! ” 
She sighed and hurried off to the next room. 

In a moment she was back again, a little ex- 
citement in her manner. “ Not one word shall 
you say to Max about this. He knows not that 
I know.” 

“You have seen — written to his father 
then? ” Sydney hazarded. 

Her smile was inscrutable. “ Not any of those 
things. Max tells it all to me himself ; not mit 
V7ords — he never knows that he tells. I know. 
But you ant I speak not. NicJd waJir?"* 

Sydney assented and she continued. 

“ I wish you should speak German mit Max 
ant me. I shall not make the mistakes in Ger- 
man. I speak good Court German. It will later 
make — what you say? credit for you in the 
university.” 


[ 96 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Does Max speak it correctly? ” 

“ Surely. Beautiful German. Also you shall 
spend more time at the music. You shall learn 
the piano. I will teach you.” 

“Oh, no, Mrs. Schmitz,” he objected; “it 
takes too much time. I shall never be a pianist. 
I care only to sing.” 

“ Of course you will not be a pianist. For 
that you begin as soon as you can walk. But 
there be times when you must play your own 
accompaniment mebbe, or refuse to sing. To 
refuse iss not goot. Also playing a little helps 
to appear better in company.” 

“ But you have too much to do. You are 
tired — ” 

“ Listen, goot boy! You help me more than 
you know. You make four ej'^es to watch mine 
business. Things this year go goot. I shall soon 
keep one cook. Then I have much time.” 

Sydney was truly glad, and showed his feel- 
ing; though he could not express it as Max did 
[ 97 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


when told of the impending change for the benefit 
of the household. 

“ Groodl That ’s right. It ’s distressing to 
see her hands so stiffened with hard work, when 
they should be kept soft and supple for the 
piano. Such a woman drudging at man’s work, 
tool I hate it for her 1” 

Sydney recognized that Max’s understanding 
of Mrs. Schmitz was far more discriminating 
than his own, and the fact made him feel young 
and ignorant. But he did not let this increase his 
jealousy. He believed he had pretty well downed 
that meanness. 

Max, never dreaming of the sentiment he had 
aroused, imconsciously made it harder for Syd- 
ney by his boyish chaflBng, or by his excursions 
with Mrs. Schmitz into the world of books and 
music where Sydney could not go. 

Yet this was the best thing that could have 
happened to Sydney. He began to read as 
never before, spurred by his envy. Not tasks set 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


by a teacher nor for amusement; but for the sake 
of what he should find locked in books. He 
tried hard to see the charm in the classics from 
which Max with shining eyes quoted ghbly. 
Many times he read things Max recommended, 
read doggedly till at last the stately rhythm 
caught his ear, and the meaningless words 
thrilled him. 

The day before Bess’s party Mrs. Schmitz 
surprised the bo3’’s with new suits, shoes, ties, and 
gloves, everything complete. 

Max drew the soft handkerchief through his 
fingers caressingly. “ What a satisfaction! Real 
linen once more.” 

Sydney was pleased with his clothes but he 
did not know linen from cotton, nor the value 
of knowing. Yet when both boys were dressed 
and parading in front of their delighted house- 
mother, Sydney was fully as grateful, as much 
filled with a comfortable sense of being well 
dressed as was Max. And neither of them 
[ 99 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


enjoyed their finery so much as the one who gave 
it to them. 

The party was a success. Bess was a cordial, 
unaffected hostess; and her father and mother 
doubled her welcome because they were able to 
be young with young people. 

Ida Jones was there. Any girl or woman 
would have known that her simple gown of rich 
creamy color cost little; a dressmaker would have 
known it was homemade, yet to Sydney it 
looked gorgeous; and the rose she wore in her 
hair, one that Bess begged to pin on after Ida 
arrived, held in its deep heart all the rich red- 
dish yellows and yellow browns of her hair. 

She looked so “ dressed up,” so young ladylike, 
that Sydney was afraid of her; and with a hur- 
ried nod, passed her and stood aloof with one or 
two other yoimg chaps, wearing their first eve- 
ning clothes, cold with nervousness, thinking 
every eye upon them. 

Bess spied them and came over, speaking to 
[ 100 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Sydney first. “ Miss Jones will be your partner 
for the evening. You must see that she has 
a good time. May I depend on you, Mr. 
Bremmer? ” 

She was more than ever the Queen of Sheba 
tonight, a large, richly colored brunette with 
the mystery of the East looking from her dark 
eyes, but the strength and fearless generosity of 
the West heartening through all her cheery 
speech. Her dress of some soft, oriental stuff, 
simply made and worn with no ornament save 
a strand of cmiously wrought eastern beads, 
emphasized and distinguished her from the over- 
dressed girls who were in the majority. 

She, too, gave Sydney a shiver of strange- 
ness. He did not notice, that the young men also 
looked “ different,” wore their “ company ” man- 
ners; and the “Mr. Bremmer” frightened him. 

“I — I ’ll try. What — how — you know — 
Say! This is awfully — ” 

“ Awfully sudden? ^Tiy Mumps! I thought 
[ 101 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


you could say something more original; excru- 
ciatingly precipitant, or something like that. 
Go on, and talk to her. Talk shop if you can’t 
think of anything else. Or tell her how dandy 
she looks. She made that little frock herself. 
Is n’t she a — a peach? ” 

That bit of slang with the familiar name 
helped Sydney to “ break through,” as he knew 
she intended; for none better than Bess under- 
stood the sort of good breeding that fits the rule 
to the situation. 

As he turned back he met May Nell Smith. 
She was almost grown, tall and lady-like; yet 
she had the same sim-touched waving hair, the 
same blue eyes and mystic, ethereal spirit look- 
ing out from them, that he remembered when 
he first met her, a delicate little girl in the big 
car, taking him and Billy on their first drive 
over the City of Green Hills. 

She greeted him warmly, a greeting that car- 
ried assurance of good will, faith; a silent pledge 
[ 102 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


of her trust that all felt who came near her. No 
one met May Nell without determining to be at 
least a little different. Not dreaming that she 
did it, she aroused everyone to his best. And 
Sydney left her determined to bear his part for 
the evening so well that Bess should be pleased 
with him. 

When he foimd Ida it was with an added 
respect for capability, as he looked with more 
discriminating eyes at the pretty gown. He ad- 
mired her quiet good manners as she modestly, 
yet without shyness, met the many strangers of 
the senior class, a formidable ordeal for an 
imder-class girl. 

StiU under all her sedateness Ida was shy too. 
A fellow feeling drew the two together, and 
they entertained each other with the exchanges 
of personal experience inevitable when yoimg 
people meet, each looking eagerly out upon life 
to squeeze it dry of its fascinating mysteries. 

When dancing was called, Sydney, who did 

[ lOS] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


not dance, started to find her partners. But 
she detained him, saying she would rather talk. 
However, Sydney was suddenly brave, and, 
proud to be considered of consequence by so 
attractive a girl, manhke, insisted. He must 
show her off. At least she must dance with his 
very best friend, Billy; and Max was “ awfully 
pat on dancing”; she must give him one. 

She acquiesced; but sat out other dances with 
Sydney; and when dancing was halted for sing- 
ing, and Sydney had to go to the piano, he was 
astonished and sorry to find the evening two- 
thirds gone. 

The quartette, accompanied by the three 
instruments, did well. The audience voted the 
violin an “ immense ” addition. After the pre- 
pared numbers they sang college songs, all join- 
ing; and when Max introduced two or three 
songs new to them, playing odd, catchy little 
accompaniments, sometimes whistling, some- 
times singing in a funny high voice, half tenor, 
[ 104 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


half soprano in quality, they cheered him bois- 
terously. 

Then they asked for something more ambi- 
tious from the violin. 

“ I have n’t any music,” Max demurred. 

“ The Queen has all the music ever printed,” 
Billy exaggerated gayly, adding as he caught 
her scowl, “ Miss Carter, alias Queen of Sheba.” 

“ I ’m sure you ’ll find something, Mr. Ball,” 
she urged. 

“Here! Look it over!” Billy called, and 
with the familiarity of long tried friendship 
threw open the door of the cabinet. 

“ Here ’s something I know,” Max said pres- 
ently. “Who will play the accompaniment?” 
He looked around expectantly, trying to keep 
doubt out of his eyes; he was fastidious about 
that. 

“ Bess can play for you,” Billy volunteered. 

“ I ’m afraid I can’t please you, but I ’ll try 
if you wish.” 


[ 105 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Bess and Max, belonging to the small clan of 
the really covu^eous, made no more excuses, but 
began at once a familiar number from one of 
the operas. Max standing so that he faced Bess 
partly and could watch her in the violin pauses. 

At first he played tamely, a little hesitatingly; 
but he soon saw that Bess followed with fine 
discretion and sympathy, and he threw himself 
into the work with entire forgetfulness of every- 
thing else. 

Sydney, relieved from the duty of entertain- 
ing, watched Bess’s fiying fingers; saw her 
intent look while the violin took up the theme 
alone; and Max’s eager, rapt gaze upon her 
during his rests — the look of an artist when he 
has discovered another. 

Without demur they responded to an encore, 
and after that supper was announced. Later 
there was a little more dancing and a closing 
song. Sydney, standing near, heard Bess invite 
Max to come often with his violin and let her 
[ 100 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


have the honor of learning his accompaniments 
in a way that might exactly please him. 

“ It ’s what I ’ve been hoping for every 
minute since you first touched the keys this 
evening,” Max returned with an ardent look. 
Sydney could not understand that it was the 
look of the musician rather than of the man. 

Bess blushed at the look and still more at 
Max’s polished manner, so different from the 
bluff, frank ways of her comrades. It was more 
grown-up, with an almost foreign air of reserve, 
yet conveying a subtle flattery; and Sydney 
looking on felt anger rising in his heart. 

Here was one, scarcely his senior, dropped 
into their circle by a sinister incident, coming 
from no one knew where, destined no one knew 
where, handsome, gallant, gifted, aided by the 
gods themselves it seemed to tongue-tied Syd- 
ney, in one evening walking into an intimacy 
with Bess that he, Sydney, might wish for till 
doomsday and never dream of achieving. 

[ 107 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Like some cotmtry booby, his mouth frozen 
open in astonishment, he sulked by the newel 
till Ida, coming in her wraps, reminded him of 
duty and courtesy. With difficulty he roused 
himself to a proper good-by to Doctor and Mrs. 
Carter; but when he came to Bess he could 
trust himself for no more than the words, 
“ Thank you. Good night.” 

He was so silent that Ida wondered if she 
had said anything to offend him. But her own 
small triumph, the brilliant scene, the comfort 
of knowing herself appropriately gowned, the 
pleasure of meeting on an equal footing those 
who had passed her indifferently each day, and 
best of all, the knowledge unwittingly accorded 
by admiring eyes that she was at least not 
imbeautiful — all this thrilled her, loosed her 
reticent tongue, and kept her talking gayly till 
they arrived at her home. 

“Walter Buckman is dreadfully chagrined 
at receiving no invitation,” she said at her door. 

[ 108 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Did you know some of the Fussers were going 
to boycott Miss Carter on accoimt of it? ” 

“ Boycott Miss Carter! ” Sydney echoed an- 
grily. “ Boycott! That means cutting out Miss 
Smith, Reg Steele, Hec Price, and the quar- 
tette. What will there be left of the senior class 
to boycott after that? ” 

“ Nothing,” Ida laughed happily. “ They 
are the cream; after that only riffraff like — 
like me; and I ’m only a girl junior.” Again 
her soft laugh rippled out : “ I ’ve had the best 
time I ever had in my hfe, and I thank you 
for it.” 

“ Thank Miss Carter.” 

“ I do. But she would never have heard of 
me except for you. Good-by.” 

It was a mile further to the nursery but Syd- 
ney walked. He would not take a car — face 
people. He wanted to arrive after Max, creep 
to his room, and have it out with himself. 

But Max, too, had walked, wishing to be alone 
[ 109 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


under the stars. And they arrived in their street 
at the same time. 

Max was elated. His every step betrayed it. 
He strode along as if shod with springs, and his 
voice thrilled with a new note. “ Is n’t she 
great? ” 

“ Who? Miss Smith? ” Sydney knew Max 
did not mean May Nell. 

“ No, no. She ’s lovely to look at and I guess 
lovely to know; I did n’t notice her much. It ’s 
Miss Carter I mean. There ’s a real musician.” 

“Is that all you think she is? She’s much 
more than that,” Sydney defended. 

“ All! All? To be a real musician is to have 
tasted divine fire.” 

“ All the same, I think it ’s no compliment to 
a girl to think only of what she can do,” Sydney 
persisted with some temper. 

“ Sydney, you do n’t understand. A musi- 
cian, a real one, does n’t do things musical; he 
is them. Hundreds of girls strum on the piano, 
[nol 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


The rare one puts her soul into it and draws 
forth the angel of harmony that civilizes us.” 

Sydney knew this was a high tribute, but with 
narrow, snap judgment decided it was selfish. 

Max talked on, and on, more to himself than 
to his imwilling listener, but roused at last to 
Sydney’s silence. “ I guess you do n’t wish me 
to play with Miss Carter. Is that it? Do you 
care so much? ” 

How could Sydney know that it was the intu- 
ition belonging to his temperament that enabled 
Max to read his heart? Angry, hvirt, jealous, 
he did what the awkward, blimdering boy so 
often does, denied himself, belied himself. “I? 
I have nothing to say about it. Miss Carter is 
nothing to me. I Ve known her some time, 
that ’s all. Her folks are kind to me, too.” 

“ Then it ’s all right? ” 

“ Of course it is.” 

“ Good! ” Max responded; and they entered 
the house. 


[Ill] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


On the hall table lay a fat-looking, pretentious 
letter for Max. 

It was an invitation to him to join the Fussers 
Club. Reed Hathaway begged the honor of 
presenting Mr. Ball’s name, and hoped for 
prompt permission to do so. 

Max read it twice and handed it to Sydney with 
no comment. 

“Well, wouldn’t that flitter you!” he ex- 
claimed, holding the big sheet out far and up 
near, as if thus shifting it might cause some 
hidden meaning to leap from the few words. 

“ I ’ve been in school only a few weeks; is n’t 
it pretty early to invite me into that club of 
exclusives? ” 

“ No. They want to be styled good dressers 
and successful haughties. You could wear rags 
better than some of them can wear the glad 
goods; and yoiu* face, manner, and violin have 
done the rest.” 

“Yet — Reed Hathaway — he ’s Buckman’s 
[ 112 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


best friend; he must know of that street-car 
incident. What does it mean? ” 

“ I pass it up. What do you think? ” 

“ It ’s the riddle of the Sphinx to me.” 

“ Sleep on it,” Sydney sagely advised; and 
they separated. 


[ns] 


CHAPTER VI 


TVyC AX did sleep on it but morning brought 
no solution for the riddle. While he 
dressed he pondered it, stopping to study the 
stately constitution and by-laws submitted with 
the invitation. From them he gathered a greater 
respect for the organization than its frivolous 
name had given him. But he got no further 
toward discovering the reason for his invita- 
tion, and ran downstairs, a little late, to find 
Mrs. Schmitz unusually excited. 

She had been drawn on jury duty, her first 
experienee, for she had not lived in Washington 
in the earlier territorial days when women were 
•itizens. 

“ That cook comes not before next week, and 
now they call me on jury already. That mar- 
malade will spoil surely.” 

[ 114 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Get excused,” advised Max. 

“ To make marmalade? ” Mrs. Schmitz 
turned swiftly to him, speaking sternly. “ In 
Germany one man does everything — one man 
and a few nobihty. In America all men of the 
nation have each work to do; and here in 
Washington also women. I do not shirk.” 

“ I see.” 

“ We ’ll take good care of things,” Sydney as- 
sured her; “ it ’s fine that it ’s vacation. TeU us 
what to do.” 

“ Goot boy, Seedney! What to do you ever 
ask. You also so ask. Max? ” 

“ Surely.” 

Sydney noticed that Max’s face had no cloud 
on it. He did not show resentment of her trust 
in Sydney, nor of his superior knowledge of 
commonplace duties. 

“ There iss not so much to do in the house — 
enough to eat — anyways Seedney, you are a 
goot cook. Ant the nursery — you know already 
[ 115 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


what goes on there. Look a leetle out for Blit- 
zen, ant — that iss ail I guess.” 

“ The marmalade? ” Sydney inquired. 

“ Oh, that spoils anyhow I guess. No mat- 
ter. Mebbe the trials will be over pretty quick; 
then I ’ll make it.” 

She was as brisk and prompt about civic duty 
as about her own; and when the boys insisted 
she should do no housework that morning, she 
was ready before starting time, looking quite 
imposing in her “going out” clothes. 

While she sat waiting, Sydney ran out on some 
errand to the nursery, and Max, still puzzling 
over the invitation he had received, seized this 
opportunity to talk it over with her. 

She inquired the object of the club. The elab- 
orate constitution couched in flowing, dignified 
English was quite impressive. Max began to 
read it to her, but she stopped him. 

“ I cannot imderstand that language. What 
kind of boys belong? ” 

[ 116 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Some of the most influential boys in school, 
Sydney says.” 

“ Influential? ” She paused a moment as if 
studying the word. “ That may be goot or bad. 
Not bad I guess, or teachers would stop it.” 

It was time to start and they walked across 
to the car line, passing on the way a row of 
splendid maples growing from the ground about 
three feet above the sidewalk. The bank had 
recently been cut down sheer and many roots 
were exposed. 

“Look here already!” Mrs. Schmitz indi- 
cated a slender root of uniform size running 
laterally, entirely in view. “ What do you see? ” 

“Jolly! It nms from a down-bearing root 
of this tree right to a similar root of that other 
tree. And here’s another!” he called, walking 
rapidly ahead of her. “ I did n’t know things 
like that happened.” 

“ Look close. You see many more leetle roots 
all going same way.” 

[ 117 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ How strange! ” 

“Not so. You have not studied; that’s all. 
Under ground are many strange things. From 
air, water, ground, and sim comes all life; but 
first everything begins in the groimd — in the 
dark.” 

Max was awed by her seriousness. “ Every- 
thing? ” he said. 

“ Yes.” She picked up a little twig and began 
to stir the loose earth absent-mindedly. “Now 
— this time of year are great things going on 
down there — in the dark. A great fight for 
life. All the leetle seeds hear the spring birds 
sing ant they feel the warm sun coming; ant 
something tells them, “Come up! Come up! 
Come quick before it iss too late.” 

“ Too late? ” Max repeated when she dropped 
into silence. 

“ There iss so much for seeds to do in one 
summer, to feed themself with air, sun, water, 
that makes them to grow; to make flower ant 
[ 118 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


seed ; ant to put in every leetle seed also enough to 
last it through the long winter.” 

It seemed strange to Max that she should 
speak of a mere seed as if it were sentient. 

“ So many seeds, so many new leetle roots 
growing, sometimes so leetle rain ant so hard 
the ground — it iss all one big fight, pushings, 
pullings, to see who first gets to the top, to the 
light.” 

“ I do n’t see how they know when to start — 
the little seeds shut up in the dark down there.” 

“ Their soul tells them.” 

“Soul?” Max asked, startled. 

“ Yes. In all things, behind everything living 
iss soul.” 

“ That seems queer. I never thought a plant 
could have a soul.” 

“ Mebbe you call it intelligence. Names make 
leetle difference. What do you think? Look at 
mine lily. It iss in November just a dry brown 
thing like onions. I put it in the groimd. It 
[ 119 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


grows, blooms with a beautiful flower; then its 
leafs die, its flower, all you see. In August it 
iss again one dry brown thing like onions. But 
inside iss all the bloom, all the green leafs, all 
the lovely color, sweet fragrance, wrapped in 
those leetle silk folds. It has drawn all back 
again into itself. I throw it in mine cellar. It 
has no water, no light, nothing; but next year 
if I put it once again into the ground it blooms. 
What do you call that? ” 

“I — I do n’t know. It ’s wonderful! ” 

“ Also grass thinks.” 

“Thinks! Grass?” 

They were passing a lawn that needed mow- 
ing. “ See that clover? In May it blooms. 
Every week after that this man mows his lawn, 
ant every week he cuts off* leetle clover blossoms 
mebbe two inches high. But there on the vacant 
lot just beside you see other clover growing? ” 
“ Yes.” 

“ That also gets plenty water from the sprink- 
[ 120 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


ler; but that clover takes its time. That clover 
grows mebbe one foot high before it blooms. 
What do you call that? That grass thinks 
mebbe? Nicht wahr? " 

Max looked his astonishment. “ Why is it 
so?” 

“ Why? It iss the law of hfe. All things 
before they die give back to the world children. 
If the clover in the lawn hurries not it never 
blooms; never puts out its flower. The clover 
on the side needs not to hiorry.” 

“ I shall never look at clover again without 
thinking of all this.” 

“ Soul, law, intelligence, God — I think all 
those names mean pretty near the same, and 
Heavenly Father iss best of all. Plant, bird, 
man, — all are in God’s hant. All are brothers. 
One plant likes one thing. Another plant likes 
it not, but something else. Each helps all.” 

“Yes, I begin to see,” Max said, his face 
shining with understanding. 

[ 121 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Those maple trees mit big tops — alone mit 
a big wind they fall mebbe; tied together mit 
many roots they stand.” 

“And for such needs are clubs, societies, 
and ” 

“ That iss right! How quick you see. Max! ” 

The car interrupted them, and she left liim, 
waving her smart umbrella in good-by. From 
her face beamed a love for him, for all humanity, 
that as yet he could but half appreciate; yet her 
words had made a deep impression. 

When he returned to the house he found Syd- 
ney washing the dishes. “ Here! Let me bear 
a hand.” He caught the towel and began to dry 
the plates. 

Sydney was silent, for a scheme was growing, 
the making of the marmalade. 

“ Why not? ” he asked when Max objected that 
they might spoil it. “ The stujBf will spoil any- 
way; if we can save it, won’t it be so much to 
the good? ” 


[ 122 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Yes. But can we do it right? ” 

“No matter. She makes the best marma- 
lade in town, the neighbors say. They know, for 
she gives away a lot. She ’s started this right; if 
we finish it up half right it wiU do for us boobs to 
eat on bread and butter, won’t it? ” 

“ Surely, and be much better than we deserve 
probably.” 

The dishes finished, Sydney found Mrs. 
Schmitz’s recipe book and the two studied the 
complicated directions. It was a three days’ 
process, and they could not make up their minds 
whether this was the second or third day, so little 
idea had they of the “ looks of the mess.” But 
they acted on the latter inference. 

“ Let ’s do it today and get it over with,” 
Sydney, the prompt, suggested. 

“ Very well. Tell me what to do.” 

Not without a little show of importance Syd- 
ney bustled about, giving orders, looking up the 
great preserving kettle, and searching for such 
[ 128 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

materials as he judged were not already put 
together. 

Max minded this not in the least. He had 
the soul of the true artist, who is always too 
deeply engrossed in his work to notice what 
others are doing, or saying of him. Over and 
over he read the recipe, thinking closely, and 
once or twice correcting Sydney himself in his 
interpretation. 

It was great fun till the long process of boil- 
ing and simmering came, and the kitchen grew 
hot, as, boy fashion, they stuffed the range with 
kindling and coal, and in consequence had to 
cook their sweet stuff on the very rear edge of 
the range. 

But Sydney foimd Max a good partner in 
distress. He did even more than his share of 
the watching and stirring, declaring it was the 
proper work of the second cook. 

“ How is it. Max, that whatever you take up, 
you do it so perfectly, so successfully at the 
[ 124 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


very first? I must always try and try again.” 

“I don’t know. I like to undertake new 
things. I put my whole mind on what I do.” 

“ So do I. But it ’s something more than 
that. Look at the way you have taken to the 
work in the hothouses. Only yesterday Mrs. 
Sclimitz said you learned wonderfully fast; as 
if you knew long ago, and had only to ‘ remem- 
ber it as from sleep waking.’ ” 

“ How could I help learning about plants with 
her to teach me? She makes them so interesting. 
She loves them as if they were children, and 
while I ’m with her I feel the same. If it was n’t 
for music I could be willing to work always with 
them.” 

“Yet you couldn’t get work last winter. 
That seems strange.” 

Max thought a moment before replying. “ I 
don’t understand it myself. The first work 
I had after I arrived in the City of Green Hills 
was collecting for a doctor. I was too careless 

[ 125 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


— no, I did n’t know enough to hide the money; 
and the third day a big fellow caught me in a 
lonely place and robbed me. The doctor 
would n’t believe me, and so I lost that job.” 

“ Gee! That was rough.” 

“ The next thing was being bell boy at a hotel. 

That lasted two months, but say, Sydney, 

I just hated that work. At first it made me feel 
mean to take tips; then I got to looking for 
’em, and I — left.” 

Sydney scanned the noncommittal face during 
the pause that followed. 

“When I remembered my mother I — I 
could n’t go on there. I was out of work a long 
time after that, and on the street two days and 
nights before I went — where I had declared I 
would not go — to the brewery to wash bottles.” 
He turned away with a motion of disgust. “ Gee! 
The odor of that stale beer! I smell it yet.” 

“ But why did n’t you try for a chance in an 
orchestra? ” 


[ 126 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Max smiled. “With no proper clothes, no 
violin, and not a friend among people that care 
for music? There was no Mrs. Schmitz stand- 
ing roxmd, ready to hand me an old Cremona.” 

Both were silent a moment. “ But even bottle 
washers get too plenty in the winter when work 
is slack; and after I began to cough so hard 
the men were afraid of tuberculosis and would n’t 
work with me and I had to go. I could n’t seem to 
impress any one with my superior skill as bottle 
washer enough to command a promotion.” He 
gave Sydney a crooked smile that was not all 
mirth. 

“ That ’s because it was work that needed no 
thought.” 

“ That is n’t all. There was no one to take 
an interest in me, to show me what to do, and 
how, as Mrs. Schmitz does. And more than 
that, no one had the kind of work suited to me.” 

“ I reckon that has the most to do with it,” 
Sydney acquiesced. 


[ 127 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“Now this playing at the moving picture 
houses — that ’s work I ought to do well. My 
father paid for my lessons for years — he hated 
to do it, for he did n’t want me to be a musician, 
but mother insisted. Mrs. Schmitz has helped 
me to make something from all that training.” 

“ A good friend does help a lot, does n’t he? ” 

“ Wonderf\illy. A little more than six weeks 
altogether I ’ve played, most of the time eve- 
nings only, and I ’ve made enough to buy all the 
clothes I need, to pay Mrs. Schmitz a little for 
my first month’s board and nursing, all she’ll 
let me pay. I ’m in school, I ’m learning a busi- 
ness — no matter if it is slowly — I have good 
health, am invited to join the Fussers, and — 
have a chance to play with Miss Carter. Gee! 
If any one had shown me all those pictures the 
night before I broke in here I ’d have thought 
he was dippy.” There was a happy, boyish lilt 
in his tones, and he began to whistle as he stirred 
the steaming fruit. 


[ 128 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Carefully into the glasses, as Sydney had seen 
Mrs. Schmitz put away her jellies, they dipped 
the marmalade, and afterward washed up the 
dishes and put the kitchen in order, rather proud 
of their morning’s work. Then they went to 
the nursery to help in the potting, the making 
of new beds, the “ shpping,” or whatever work 
was most pressing. 

That day and night they did httle cooking. 
Anyone could live well more than one day on 
warmed-up things at Mrs. Schmitz’s home. 
Early in the evening Max wrote and posted his 
acceptance of the invitation to have his name 
proposed for the Eussers. 

They went to bed early. Neither would 
acknowledge how lonely he was without Mrs. 
Schmitz; though each knew the other felt it. 

The next afternoon a cheery voice came over 
the line. 

“ Have you all been well efer since I left 
you?” Mrs. Schmitz inquired. “ It seems one 

[ 129 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


year already. I come tonight; in about two 
hours now.” 

“Let’s surprise her!” Max proposed. 
“ Have a bang-up dinner. You boss, and I ’ll 
help.” 

Sydney agreed readily and both went at it. 

“ We ’U serve it in courses. I ’ll wait on you 
two, and we ’ll make her think of old days, when 
she had servants at every txrm.” 

“ How do you know she had them? Did she 
tell you?” Sydney speculated upon her con- 
fidences to Max, thinking they must have been 
much greater than any she had given him. But 
Max’s laughing reply disarmed him. 

“ She ’s scarcely mentioned her past life to me; 
but can’t you see? She betrays at every turn the 
fact of her gentle breeding and familiarity with 
luximy.” 

Sydney saw that it was because like knows like 
that Max understood these things. 

He set the table wdth great ceremony, putting 

[ ISO] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


on all the silver he could find, meanwhile suggest- 
ing many imusual dishes from which they selected 
those they knew how to prepare or those 
that “ soimded easy.” Max brought the nicest 
linen, and from the greenhouses fragrant flow- 
ers, arranging a center piece that Sydney ad- 
mired, secretly envying Max his skill. 

Mrs. Schmitz came like a joyous, fragrant 
summer wind. She seemed to bring life to a 
dead house; sweetness, goodness; in short, 
motherhood. 

She laughed, exclaimed, kissed each boy on 
the cheek — and Sydney blushed with bashful- 
ness. She took off her hat and ran to the dining 
room, sa5dng she must start dinner. Max caught 
her back and himself took off her coat. Then she 
started toward the side door that led to the 
nursery, and Sydney interrupted her there. 

“Dinner’s most ready,” he announced with 
importance. 

“ What ? You boys the dinner cook ? ” 

[ 131 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


They nodded vigorously. 

“ And it will spoil if you do n’t hasten,” Max 
continued. “You said you’d be here in two 
hours. We set the time half an hoim later; but 
you are late and you have just seven minutes in 
which to make your toilet.” 

Laughing and happy, she went upstairs; and 
they could hear her stepping about overhead, 
pulling out drawers, opening doors, and making 
a racket in more rooms than one. When she 
entered the sitting room again she was only a 
minute late and was in evening dress. 

Both boys started. For all Max had told 
Sydney so much, and had realized more, even he 
was not prepared for the grand dame who swept 
in upon them, bowing low to both. Her fine 
white skin and plump neck, freed from the stiff 
collar she usually wore, gave her, as with all 
stout women, a stateliness the boys had little sus- 
pected; and the sweeping train added to this 
effect. The high-piled hair, gray but waving 

[ 132 ] 



She was in evening dress 






\ 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


and beautiful, her dark blue eyes that could be 
merry, tender, scornful, or stern, all her kind 
features they knew so well, took on an air that 
made her for an instant almost a stranger. 

“In honor of my dear young men, Sydney 
and Max, I have dressed for dinner.” 

Sydney did not know that her elegant finery, 
shipped from Germany, was old in style. Max 
knew, but didn’t care, since it was rich and 
becoming. 

“ Thank you, dear Mrs. Schmitz. Madame, 
dinner is served.” 

Sydney merely stared. Max’s “ thank you ” 
was spoken as a most loving son might greet his 
mother; but he wore an apron and carried a nap- 
kin on his arm; and his “ dinner is served,” was 
in the tone of the most obsequious servant. 

They went out in great state, Sydney giving 
his arm, and Max throwing open the door, draw- 
ing the chair for Madame and, when he had 
seated her, standing stiffly behind her. 

[ 138 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Before she could touch her soup Sydney 
brought a jar of marmalade, insisting that she 
should try it at once. 

“^No, no! Not before soup! ” Max objected, 
forgetting his “ place ” as waiter. “ Take your 
sweets away till dessert.” 

“ They ’re his sweets too. It ’s really a three- 
partner job,” Sydney explained. 

Mrs. Schmitz pronounced it excellent with such 
fervor that both boys were convinced. She never 
told them that it was “ clear as mud.” How could 
it be otherwise when Max had “ stirred it to 
death ” ? 

With great merriment, and in several courses, 
the dinner passed. Max insisted on serving in 
great style because he knew how it should be 
done; but she blighted his vanity by command- 
ing him to his own seat while they ate. It was 
really a success. She praised everything, entering 
into their fun ; and the boys, taught by her absence, 
felt a deeper joy in all she did, realizing gratefully 

[ 184 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


how much a part of her home life she considered 
them. 

A few days after this came a telephone sum- 
mons from Bess Carter for Max to bring his 
violin and music. There was an invitation for 
Sydney also, but he refused — so curtly that 
Max, who, though leaving the room, could not 
help hearing it, was out of patience with him. 
And when he came home after an evening of 
music and joy he painted it in extravagant 
fasMon, intending to punish Sydney for slight- 
ing Miss Carter. He never dreamed he was 
stirring an already hot-burning fire in Sydney’s 
heart. 

It was by no means love for Bess that seethed 
in his veins. Neither was it any passion that 
Sydney could recognize and analyze. It was a 
savage sort of resentment that another should 
be able to please, not only Bess, but all, girls 
and boys; that Max should be able to say with 
ease the most appropriate and interesting 
[ 185 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


things, while he, Sydney, the tongue-tied, could 
merely mumble. That Max could make exqui- 
site music, do the gallant thing at the right 
moment, and wear his clothes as if they were 
king’s ermine — it was all this that made the 
less gifted, untaught waif of a boy — boy yet 
though a man in size — rage at himself and hate 
everyone. Max in particular. 

Twice more Max came home radiant, the 
second time full of plans for more music 
through that part of the vacation when Bess 
should be in town, and afterward when both 
should be in the imiversity. For Max, the house- 
breaker, had taken a new hold on life, had de- 
termined to be a man in the world of best men. 
Mrs. Schmitz had resurrected his ambition. 

Then the blow fell. 


[ 186 ] 


CHAPTER VII 


T T was the day when Max was to be voted into 
the Fussers Club. He sat waiting in the ante- 
room, feeling keenly the air of expectation, a 
thrilling sense of important things impending. 
He wondered if some disturbance was going on 
in the assembly room of the club; speculated 
vaguely upon what part in the fortunes of the 
organization he might be called to play. What- 
ever it might be, he would not shirk. 

In a comer two yoimg men were evidently 
though noiselessly quarreling. Presently Wal- 
ter Buckman and Billy Bennett came from the 
club room and joined the others, when the alter- 
cation became more violent. Short disjointed 
remarks floated out to the listeners ** — a chance,’* 
from Billy; and “ — any such example,” from 
Walter. 


[ 137 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ What are they talking about? ” Max asked 
one standing near him, noting that with each 
moment the number in the room increased. 

“ That is the investigating committee.” 

“Do they often disagree so?” 

“ No. And today there ’s only one candidate; 
there must be something doing.” The speaker 
moved quickly away. 

Max noticed this, and Walter’s increasing 
vehemence; and instantly a premonition of 
disaster swept him like a cold, wet blast. 

“ I tell you I won’t stand for any thieves 
being voted into the Fussers,” Walter shouted, 
heedless of a sibilant “ Hush! ” from one of the 
others. 

“ I ’ll stake my honor he ’s all right,” Billy 
Bennett shouted back, and Max^silently blessed 
him for those words. 

Max understood — saw it all as plain as the 
sum of two and two. This was the way Walter 
Buckman had taken to “get even.” He had 

[ 138 ] 












, 1 




L'.J 




if ."W 

j 

' ■ A y \ 


•> , . • .... ''^'-'j 

' '•. • •. :.;is 


A premonition of disaster swept him 








BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


urged Reed Hathaway to present Max’s name, 
had “ talked up ” the candidate right and left, 
and had even told Billy, who had repeated it to 
Max, that the proposed member would lend more 
style and more genius to the club than any ten 
previous members. 

Now Max knew these honeyed praises were 
only for the purpose of attracting attention, for 
filling the room with the curious, so that Walter’s 
bomb would have an audience. 

Max decided to hurry the explosion. He 
stepped forward and faced the committee in the 
corner. “ I imderstand that my name is the 
only one imder consideration, and that the inves- 
tigating committee is embarrassed concerning it. 
I withdraw my name as a candidate for the 
Fussers Club.” He bowed and was turning 
away when Walter Buckman strode into the 
middle of the room with an air of importance, 
exclaiming: 

“No, sir! You don’t walk off with that air 

[ 189 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


of injured innocence. Right here and now I 
brand you as a thief. Max Ball! ” 

Max would have replied but a great hubbub 
rose. He had won friends among pupils and 
teachers; and those who best knew Walter were 
sure there was some malevolence back of this 
attack, and they stood for fair play. Walter’s 
father, however, was a wealthy business man of 
large power in the city and this had weight with 
the truculent ones, making a following for the son 
as well as the father. 

But Billy Bennett cared nothing at all for 
Buckman, senior or junior, when fair play was at 
stake; nor even for the much admired magnate, 
Mr. Smith, May Nell’s father. “ I protest,” he 
cried. “ This accusation is unworthy a student. 
No matter how incriminating circumstances may 
appear, there is always a chance that they may 
not be true. Walter Buckman, I want you to re- 
tract that statement.” All knew Billy was recall- 
ing his own bitter experience of the year before 

[ 140 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


when Jim Barney trapped him into appearing as 
a thief. 

“ I retract nothing! ” Walter shouted vin- 
dictively. “ I say that last winter he robbed our 
ice box ; and I dare him to deny it.” 

Pale as ever he would be in his coffin, Max 
stepped to the center of the room, looked about 
him, and said in a low, steady voice, “ Gentle- 
men, it is true. I only hope that if such a great 
temptation — such a great need should come to 
any one here he will have more strength than I 
had to resist it.” 

He bowed comprehensively, and before any 
of them could recover from amazement, was gone. 

It took minutes for even quick-witted BiUy 
to comprehend what had really happened; and 
still more time to think what to do next. He 
voiced the opinion of all the more thoughtful 
ones there when he said, “Fellows, I believe 
we *ve made the mistake of our lives.” 

“We?” Sis Jones called out. “It’s only 

[ 141 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Buckman here. He ’s the spot-light kicker. We 
had a chance to help a good man to success, and 
Buckman’s kicked him out of the procession.” 

“ So? You stand for approving thieves, I 
suppose,” Walter sneered. 

“ Whatever he ’s done must have been be- 
cause of some terrible reason,” Billy averred. 
“ Looking into his face when he said those last 
words, one must beheve in him.” 

“ Well, you may. I do n’t. I know about 
him; and those who stand for that fellow may 
cut my acquaintance after this.” Walter strode 
off, with a large number obsequiously accom- 
panying him. 

“Well, wouldn’t that totter you?” Billy 
turned to “ Sis.” 

“ We must kick in for Max good and 
plenty,” “ Sis ” flashed. “ He ’s good meat clear 
through to the bone.” 

A little longer they talked, trying to think 
out some way to save Max from his enemy. 

[ 142 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Do you suppose he was ever really hungry 
— desperately so? ” “ Sis ” asked with awe. 

“ Gee! I ’ve been hungry enough between 
sunrise and sunset to eat an ice box whole.” 

“ So have I. Suppose a fellow had no father 
and no money, and had — gone — two days, 
say, imfed?” 

Billy nodded violently. Words could not 
express such a contingency. 

“ I ’m going right out to see Mrs. Schmitz. 
She and Mumps and I together surely can cook 
up some scheme to put Max to the good again. 
We ’ll enlist Bess and May Nell and you and 
Redtop — Oh, I know, I ’ll get Cousin Hec 
to give some sort of swell function for Max, 
show off his music; invite all the bang-ups, and 
Walter Buckman and his crowd, too — ” 

“ Bully! Walter ’s too much of a snob to 
slight the Prices or Hec’s gang; and if Walter 
goes he ’ll have to swallow Max whole and shut 
off his gab.” 


[14S] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Billy started away to see Sydney. He was 
detained by unexpected duties however, and it 
was an hour after the explosion at school before 
he arrived to find his friends in the greatest 
excitement. 

“ He iss gone! ” Mrs. Schmitz burst out with 
no other greeting, as Billy appeared at the open 
door. “ Mine poor boy! The world kicks him 
down already.” 

“ And it ’s my fault,” Sydney added gloomily. 

“ How ’s that? ” Billy asked, mystified. 

“ Read you this.” Mrs. Schmitz thrust a let- 
ter into his hand. “ A messenger brings it but 
this minute.” 

With clumsy fingers BiUy unfolded the sheet 
and read: 

Dear Mrs. Schmitz, my Second Mother: 

The boys found me out and exposed me. I could not 
deny the charge, and explanations would have been useless. 

I must go away and begin all over again where no one 
knows me. But don’t worry about me. Wherever I am I 
shall not shame you. If I can’t earn food I shall not steal, 

[ 144 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


but starve as quietly as I may. Yet I have a feeling that 
somewhere I shall make good ; I owe that to you. 

I shall love you and Sydney always. This is good-by 
to you both. 

Max. 

Billy stared at the others over the paper, and 
for a moment the room was quite still. 

Mrs. Schmitz was in a brown study. Poor 
Sydney’s head was bowed, his face dark with 
self-accusation. The clock ticked noisily, and a 
proud rooster across the street, adding his voice 
to that of a laying hen, cackled with the vigor 
of a dozen cocks, Billy thought. From a spring- 
fed, marshy lot beyond, a bullfrog croaked sud- 
denly. These sovmds, usually unheeded, now 
thrust themselves upon Billy’s attention with 
insistence and annoyance. 

“ This will throw out the class play,” he said 
abruptly. 

“ That ’s no great matter. You can alter it.” 

Billy recognized Sydney’s impatience. “ It 
is matter. I ’ve built the whole play with Max 

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in view for the leading character; and you to 
play up to him. His viohn, too — why, there ’s 
no one in the world but him to fit in right and 
do the part.” 

“ Write another play then,” Sydney exclaimed 
irritably. 

Billy, not knowing the cause of Sydney’s im- 
patience, turned in despair to Mrs. Schmitz. 
“ Write a three-act play and coach it, in less than 
two months — and keep my place in class. And 
I ’m expected with the play to win out for the 
Fifth Avenue High on the literary contest. 
Mumps! It beats the school! Don’t you see? 
If we do n’t find Max we lose to one of the five 
other Highs; don’t you see?” 

Billy probably did not know it, but he came as 
near having tears in his voice as a deep-voiced 
young man with some pride can come and not 
really sob. 

This added to Mrs. Schmitz’s own zeal. She 
had been thinking to some purpose. “We shall 

[ 146 ] 


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find him! Soon! He shall play — save your 
drama! ” She started up. 

“ I ’m the one. It ’s up to me to do the trick. 
I wish I could see how.” Sydney clenched his 
hands harder, and his perplexed scowl grew 
deeper. 

“ I ’ll tell you — I ’ll advertise.” 

Then Sydney astonished them by making the 
longest speech they had ever heard from him. 
“ This job of finding Max is mine. If I had n’t 
been yellow clean through I ’d have been there in 
the anteroom when Walter Buckman played his 
mean trick; been there to hit back, to come out 
with Max, to make him come home with me. 
Five minutes with you, Mrs. Schmitz, would have 
put him steady again. He ’s no coward, but he 
feels things a lot — his skin ’s thinner than my 
thick hide, and — ” 

“Stop! You shall not call mine Seedney 
names.” 

He nodded grimly and continued. “But I 

[ 147 ] 


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was jealous of him, that ’s what. Jealous from 
that first night when you put him in the best 
room, Mrs. Schmitz. Even after you talked it 
out of me the day you gave me my new room, 
and I thought I had the little deev killed and 
bm-ied for good, he came to life like a cat on one 
of her nine laps. I hated Max because every- 
thing he did was fine. He could please every- 
body, play, do things right the first time — Oh, 
it ’s no use talking about that any more. I ’ve 
got to do the fair thing now — find him, find 
him!” 

“ We ’ll do it. We ’ll advertise,” Mrs. Schmitz 
declared again. 

“ There ’s danger he won’t read the papers. 
Would n’t a detective be better? ” 

“ Gee ! That ’ll be the trick ! ” Billy approved ; 
“ but it will take a lot of money.” 

“ I ’ll find that money! ” Mrs. Schmitz offered 
quickly. 

“ I ’ll pay it back if it takes me years to earn 

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it. And I ’ll never go inside the Fifth Avenue 
High again till Max goes with me.” Sydney 
straightened with a decision new to Billy. It 
seemed as if he had in a moment taken up a 
great burden that he would carry to success or 
die in the attempt. 

Mrs. Schmitz stood beside him and patted his 
arm. “ Seedney, that leetle yeller fellow iss good 
and dead now already. He never again squeaks. 
Now I will go mit you to find — ” 

He faced her with determination. “ No, Mrs. 
Schmitz, I must do this alone — if I can. Let 
me take my own way for three days. If the de- 
tective — if I learn nothing then I will ask 
you — ” 

“ Me, too. Mumps! ” Billy flung in. 

“ Yes, both of you. Max had no money to 
speak of; I happened to see his purse when he 
paid his fare this morning; there was only a little 
small change. He can’t go far on that.” 

“ No. And while you ’re hunting him I ’ll 
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talk things over with mother and sister, the quar- 
tette and the bunch; and when Max returns 
we ’ll all camp on his trail, so that no matter 
what the Buckman crowd does. Max will feel he 
has a jolly good gang behind him.” 

“Goot! That’s right, Billy. The friends 
that beliefs in you before you prove out are 
worth having. After you are successful you 
do n’t need ’em. Comes so many then they are 
in the way.” 

Sydney left them and went down town, going 
first to Mr. Streeter, and laying the whole case 
before him, not sparing himself. 

His faith was warranted, for Mr. Streeter had 
not befriended many boys in trouble without 
coming well in touch with the machinery of the 
law. He knew the best detective, and went with 
Sydney to find him. This man had more than 
once successfully run down a boy for this kind 
friend of boys. 

Sydney told his story and answered many 
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questions; and when the search had been thus 
launched, he wandered about, not knowing just 
what to do next. At a busy corner he was re- 
called from a brown study by a familiar greet- 
ing, " Kla-how-ya ! " A Chinook salutation. 

Kla-ho’io-ya! " he returned, stopping beside 
a group of Indian women, two squaws and a 
child, squatted against a store front mth their 
wares exposed for sale, baskets, mats, and bead- 
work. He knew them well; had met them sev- 
eral times at the Reservation. Often he and Max 
stopped to chat with them, and the older squaw 
had taken a great fancy to Max. 

“ Come Tu-la-lip tonight? ” 

“No; I can’t go tonight.” 

“ Heap big wau-wau and shantie.” She meant 
that the Indians were to have a story-telling and 
sing. Twice Max and Sydney had gone to Tu- 
la-lip Reservation, for Max was deeply inter- 
ested in the Indians, some of them old friends 
of Sydney’s. He had sung for them; and Max 
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played his violin — “ tin-tin,” they called it, their 
name for any musical instrument — and they 
liked it immensely. 

Sydney declined the old squaw a little care- 
lessly. “ Some other time.” 

“ Ow go already.” This was her word for 
“ younger brother,” and meant Max. 

Sydney sprang toward her, excited. “ When? 
What boat? ” 

She told him. It was the fom* o’clock boat. 
The next was at six-thirty; and Sydney had 
ample time to catch it. The Indians rose slowly, 
rolled up their goods, and plodded gravely toward 
the dock; the Government obliged them to be at 
the Reservation every night. 

But Sydney ran ahead of them, his brain in a 
whirl. What could have decided Max to go 
there, of all places in the world? The fare, to be 
siu*e, was only a quarter, but that sxun would take 
him to any one of a score of small ports on the 
Sound. At the Reservation there was positively 

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nothing in the way of work for Max. Over and 
over during the half-hour’s travel Sydney pon- 
dered the matter, arriving at no conclusion. 

When the boat touched the landing he was off 
before the hawser was thrown, s kimmin g the 
narrow strip of water in a leap, even while the 
angry captain shouted a command to wait. 

He ran up the patch to the agent’s house, but 
his anxious query brought no information; Max 
had not been seen there. 

Baffled, Sydney turned, pointing to the old 
squaw of the street shop in the City of Green 
Hills. “ She told him he came on the early boat,” 
he panted. 

The agent questioned the squaw in her own 
language; but before he had spoken many words 
a little boy standing by broke in, jabbering fast, 
and pointing across a wooded peninsula where 
the Sound waters dip into the forested hills in a 
narrow inlet. 

“ This chap says your friend came here but 

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hurried across the Point to the mill. A lumber 
ship is loading there,” the agent translated. 

Sydney waited for no more but set out at a 
run. That was what Max intended — to ship to 
some distant port! That would certainly hide 
him well, and give him a living on his way. Syd- 
ney thought of sensitive, gifted Max handling 
“ tackle,” and “ bossed ” around by some profane 
mate; treated like a machine rather than like a 
human being — no, worse ; machines are property 
and get consideration. It is only hmnan life 
that is wasted with unconcern, it is so plenty. 

Running faster and faster, Sydney emerged 
from the woods to see the ship steaming slowly 
into the bay. For a minute his legs trembled 
under him and he almost fell. Too late! Max 
was surely there, lost to them forever! Suddenly 
Sydney knew how thoroughly he had uprooted 
his jealousy, how deeply Max had become fixed 
in his heart, a part of his life, his joy and 
inspiration. 


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Another quick thought buoyed Sydney — no 
one would be likely to find a berth on a ship so 
near to sailing as this had been. 

He watched her a moment and turned back 
toward the mill, stumbling along out of breath, 
and arriving to learn that one resembling Max 
had tried and failed to ship, and had set off 
southward. 

Southward ! The Pritchard Mills, one of them 
the largest shingle mill in the world! Ships were 
always loading there; of course that was where 
Max would turn next. The millman said one 
ship was due to sail with the tide that night if 
she could get a crew. The captain had been 
unable to sail sooner for lack of men. 

Max would surely be taken! Sydney must 
hurry. He asked for a horse and was laughed 
at. Horses there in those dense forests were 
“ scarce as hen’s teeth.” 

There was nothing for it but to walk — nine 
miles. Sydney knew the road skirting the shore 

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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


for he had traveled it when on a “ hike ” with his 
troop; but in daylight and with a guide was a 
different matter; now it was nearing dark — it 
must be half past seven. Yet he must try it; 
yes, try, and succeed! He must, must arrive 
before the ship sailed. 

He started off slowly, for he had run the two 
miles from the Reservation with no thought of 
saving himself ; now he must husband his strength 
if he would endure, arrive. It was too bad that 
he could not begin with speed for the first three 
miles were open and clear; the dark road was 
farther on. 

Yet he restrained himself sternly, and in spite 
of the light fog he saw settling beneath the early 
stars. There were many short cut-offs where a 
dim path led over some sharp pitch that the road 
circled at sea level. Sydney took these as long 
as he could see, noting that many cow paths led 
off at various angles, and were in some cases 
more distinct than the right one. 

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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


After a time he broke into his best pace, choos- 
ing his path as carefully as possible. He judged 
he had traveled about five miles vi^hen he came 
to a tongue of heavily wooded land making far 
out into the Sound. 

The trail was good and he had little difficulty 
in keeping it. Once or twice he found himself a 
few steps off, but was quickly warned by the 
difficult going. Yet so long the tramp seemed 
to him that he feared he had lost the way, and was 
beginning to despair, when he heard the welcome 
lap-lap of the waves, and was soon on the wagon 
road again, with the distant lights of Pritchard 
Mills beckoning cheerily in long, brilliant spikes 
through the thin fog, and several ships a-hght 
riding at anchor in the harbor. 

Heartened, Sydney ran on at fine speed over 
the smooth springy road, arriving at the wharf- 
inger’s office, spent and breathless, but in good 
spirits. No ship was leaving. 

Sydney described Max. 

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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Oh, yes. That chap blew in half an hour 
ago; but he’s done up. He’ll not leave port 
very soon, if ever.” 

Chilled with apprehension, Sydney, following 
the man’s directions, set out once more to find 
Max. 


[ 158 ] 


CHAPTER VIII 


^YDNEY found Max lying in a lumber- 
^ man’s bimk, partially restored and able to 
give greeting with both hand and word. 

“ The jig ’s up, you runaway; you ’ve got to 
come home with me.” Sydney was still panting 
from his long nm. 

Max shook his head wearily, but not before 
his eyes had flashed tell-tale joy at the word 
“ home.” “ I can’t, Sydney. I must not bring 
shame to my friends, Mrs. Schmitz, you — ” 

“ Shame, nothing! We ’re only ashamed that 
you ran away.” 

“But Walter Buckman — ” 

“ Be hanged! The bunch he nms with would 
have troubles of their own if they were investi- 
gated. Jim Barney — rotten bad, he was — he 
was Walter’s particular pal last year; and 

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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Walter’s stand for high morals is too thin. He 
can’t put it over. Come on.” 

“ But Mrs. Schmitz? ” 

“ She says she ’ll be everlastingly ashamed of 
you if you do n’t come home.” 

Max had not dreamed he was doing less than 
right by her in taking himself permanently out 
of her life. Sydney’s report of her attitude put 
a new light on the matter. It was enough. He 
would go back, would meet the issue; in Sydney’s 
parlance, take what was coming. 

There was no boat till morning; and by that 
time, he was able with the help of his friend to 
make the trip and arrive at the nursery home 
where Mrs. Schmitz, apprised by Sydney’s tele- 
phone message, had Dr. Carter waiting. His 
examination resvilted in a mild prescription, 
mostly rest; and Mrs. Schmitz took charge. 

“ You get to bed mit you, right away quick — 
you. Max. A boy when he runs away gets pun- 
ished mit the bed.” 


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I 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

The twinkle in her eye and the mother-tone 
in her voice were very welcome to the over- 
wrought boy who had lived, it seemed, years of 
misery since the hour he left the schoolhouse. 

He was not really ill, though his exhaustion, 
following his protracted illness of the winter, 
was serious. But Mrs. Schmitz had no use for 
“ mollygrups.” She petted, coaxed, scolded, and 
laughed at him in turn, and soon had him on his 
feet again, “ so goot as efer.” 

The “ bunch,” instigated by Billy, did a beau- 
tiful thing on the trying morning of Max’s re- 
turn to school. They stood together in one of 
the halls where, by appointment, Sydney brought 
Max — the “ cream of the seniors,” “ Sis ” Jones 
declared in a hissing whisper as Walter passed. 

When the two came the greeting was not noisy ; 
just hearty handshakes, and silent messages 
from sympathetic eyes, with quiet jokes and, 
“ on the side,” promises of friendship. 

When Max reached his desk he found a fat 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


letter containing “ welcome ” notes from Billy, 
Bess, May Nell, and many others. By the light 
in his teacher’s eye when she spoke to him, Max 
knew he was still trusted; and he lifted his head 
with courage, and entered upon his task of “ liv- 
ing down” any accusations Walter Buckman 
and his friends might make, a task that loomed 
very large to him. 

Billy’s eiforts, enlisted by Sydney in behalf 
of Ida Jones, had long before this borne fruit. 
May Nell’s own shining electric motor stood 
more than once in front of the house where Ida 
lived, impressing the family little less than when 
she was driven up in her mother’s great limou- 
sine. And Bess Carter, whether she walked, 
came by trolley, or was dropped from his motor 
car by Dr. Carter, radiated power and a bluff 
sort of queenliness all her own that was even 
more impressive than evidence of wealth. 

The Pattons, with whom Ida lived, were not 
unkind to her. They received her as one of the 
[1621 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


family, including her in such privileges as they 
enjoyed, which were few enough. For there was 
a houseful of small children to be cared for on 
slender means, entailing hard work for both Ida 
and her employer, who was uneducated and not 
in sympathy with the girl’s intense devotion to 
school. 

Yet when she saw the friends Ida had made, 
and that their visits were not merely formal, she 
looked with increased respect upon her little 
helper, and planned for her more leisme, to the 
end that Ida foimd herself in a new world, the 
world of music and refinement. 

One of the homes opened to her was Billy’s. 
Mrs. Bennett and her daughter often asked the 
girl to dine, and in delicate ways assisted her, 
lending books, suggesting reading, and helping 
her with bits of sewing. 

During one of these visits she met Mrs. 
Schmitz, who had been invited with her two 
proteges to hear the quartette sing; and unknown 
[ 168 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


to herself Ida acquired a new and ardent friend 
in the bright German woman. 

Mrs. Wright discovered that Ida could sing, 
not in a trained way but in a true, sweet voice 
“ placed ” by nature; and she asked her fre- 
quently to the house, giving her many valuable 
lessons. 

These occasions were often on Friday after- 
noons, when she would stay to dinner and to the 
“ quartette practice.” Then it fell to Sydney to 
take her home; and the friendship thus fostered 
was the best thing that could have happened to 
him; for he was compelled to talk, and soon 
learned to do it “the same as if she were a 
chap.” 

One day he was alone with Mrs. Schmitz in 
the lily house. They had worked for some time 
in silence when she asked suddenly, “ How old 
you think iss Miss Jones? ” 

“ She said she was eighteen.” 

A sigh that was almost a sob was her only reply, 

[ 164 ] 



Mine leetle Ida would be eighteen already ” 



\ 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


and she worked silently for some minutes, when 
she said abruptly, “Mine leetle Ida would be 
eighteen already.” She pronoimced the name as 
if it were spelled Eda, 

“How old was she when^ — when she — ” 
Sydney could not make himself finish the 
sentence. 

“ Last time I saw her she was five. But if she 
live or if she iss dead I know not. Most times 
I think she iss dead. To think she lives makes 
me crazy almost, for I do not find her.” 

“ Are you still looking — hxmting — ” 

“ Always. All the time I have men paid to 
hunt. But they do not find — her. They say 
she iss dead.” 

Sydney was troubled at her distress. She con- 
tinued her work, but he saw tears falling on the 
plants she handled. He had never seen her cry 
before. Tears embarrassed him ; and he pottered 
about awkwardly, waiting for her to speak, won- 
dering if it would be more polite to “ sneak ” 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


out of the lily house, or remain and give some 
sign of sympathy. As a compromise he turned 
his back and coughed apologetically, thoroughly 
uncomfortable. 

Absorbed in her thoughts she forgot him and 
time — which was passing so slowly for him — 
tiU she needed his help in moving some fertilizer. 
When they were both at work again she spoke. 

“ I have never told you of mine family for it 
was too much sorrow to speak of them. It iss 
for that I like not to see girls. Some people 
think I am down on girls. Not so. To see them 
makes me think of mine leetle Ida. Miss Jones 
iss a nice girl. I look at her last efening at 
Mrs. Wright’s, look at her much; ant all night 
I think of her; I cannot sleep.” 

“ That ’s too bad.” Sydney wished he could 
think of something less inane to say, but no 
words would come. 

“It was the shipwreck — when we came to 
America, three of us, mine husband, leetle Ida, 
1 166 1 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


and mineself. All passengers they put in boats; 
first the women; in the other boats some of the 
men. I went down the shipside mit Ida on mine 
arm, but the sailors say, ‘ No,’ ant take her from 
me to give me again when I am in the leetle 
boat. Then comes the captain’s call to put no 
more in that boat, ant a big wave takes us away, 
ant I mitout mine baby go on the sea.” She 
stopped and turned aside. 

“Gee I That was rough!” If the words 
were not consoling the tone was, for Mrs. Schmitz 
reached out and gave Sydney a grateful pat. 

“We came by another ship that took us on 
board. One other boat full of people they save 
by another ship that newspapers say went to 
California. Ant in that paper passengers say 
mine husband iss drowned in that third boat. No 
one sees mine leetle Ida.” 

“ Did you never hear any more? ” 

“ Not from her. I came by New York. I 
advertise, I wait — wait. I am all alone ; I speak 

[ 167 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


leetle English. I think some days I am crazy. 
Then goes the money. I see I must make some 
more. I come then to California, ant there I 
hear that some of those people of the shipwreck 
have already gone to Washington, so I come too.” 
“ Was that long ago? ” 

“ Thirteen years already. I know something 
about plants, so I get a job working here by a 
nurseryman, by name Walker. I do well. I 
make some new flowers for him that make him 
much money. He dies four years ago already, 
ant I buy this place from Mrs. Walker.” 

“ G«e! You did n’t save all that money from 
your wages, did you? ” 

She smiled. “No. I make one big — bluff 
some people call it; I call it trust in God. I pay 
the leetle I have ant give a mortgage for the 
rest.” She chuckled softly, ending with a sigh, 
the echo of the sorrow she had combated with all 
her forceful, cheery nature. “ Mrs. Walker — 
she thought I ’d never pay; but I have.” 

[ 168 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ What? Not for all of it? ” 

“ Yes. Since you came I got mine deed. 
Next thing iss to buy some new furniture that 
iss not all the time fighting mit the colors.” 

Sydney looked at her with deeper respect. He 
knew the property was valuable. “ I can’t see 
how — other mmserymen make money, but not 
so fast.” 

She stepped nearer and laid her hand impres- 
sively on his. “ Seedney, there iss a secret — 
love.” 

He looked his wonder, his mystification. 

“ Listen. I tell you. Plant, tree, insect, ani- 
mal — all are God’s. His life iss in all. He 
gifes all breath the same as man; that iss, life. 
Then all are brothers; nicht wahr? I think so; 
ant so I do. I love mine leetle plants same as if 
they could speak. I watch them close, every 
leetle thing I see. I talks mit them ; for that they 
better grow. That iss how I can make new 
plants^ — what you say in English? create new 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


colors, new roses. Those I send to Germany ; for 
them mine friends pay much money.” 

“ Friends? ” 

“ Yes. Already I make many friends mit the 
nurserymen. I do most business there because 
I write not the English goot, ant Germans like 
the flowers grown far away.” 

“ But I do n’t understand about the love part 
of it.” 

“ Hard that iss to explain in English. It iss 
like this. When you know that God gifes life to 
aU, when you think this all the time, sitting down, 
rising up, night ant day, then all anger leafes 
you. Also the fear. You kill nothing if you can 
help it, not even the snake. You love the birds 
ant they sing for you. Bees will not sting you, 
nor dogs bite you. All that iss nature turns to 
you mit love, ant from you gets help. If so you 
feel toward plants, you see things otherwise you 
could not see; and that makes you wise to breed, 
to make new plants to grow. I cannot tefl you; 

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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


it iss one secret everyone himself must discover. 
Max already sees it.” 

“ But if we do n’t kill snakes and bad things, 
they will kill us.” 

“ Who says anything God makes iss bad? Let 
the snake alone ant he will run. He flies away 
as fast as man comes ; into the wilderness he goes. 
No creature hurts things only when he gets 
afraid already. Even man iss goot if he iss not 
afraid.” 

“ But what about bad people? Grafters, 
murderers? ” 

“ They are seek people, crazy mit the drink or 
mit injustice, or mebbe from the parents they 
get it. Most people are bad from fear. Fear 
that they will not have enough to eat, or mebbe 
their children. Suppose you have always plenty 
work and plenty money, and know it iss always 
to be so ; will you steal? ” 

“ I ’d be a fool to.” 

“ But suppose you are not strong, you work 
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BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


hard, cannot do so well as the man next to you, 
ant have himgry leetle children; ant soon you 
get discharged. Chance to steal some money 
comes, ant your leetle children are himgry. What 
you do? ” 

“I — I’m afraid to think of it.” 

“ You see? We must not hate those people. 
We must love them, help them, so they steal no 
more.” 

Sydney looked up quickly. “ That ’s what 
you did for Max; you trusted him first.” 

“ You have said it. Trust helps to success. 
You can make a man fail by telling him he will; 
you can also make a man succeed by telling him 
he will. After success comes plenty friends. 
Friends! That kind are like flies, much in the 
way.” 

Sydney laughed, and just then the five o’clock 
whistle blew. 

“ Mine gracious I So late already. Come. 
We’ll have dinner soon ant then be ready for 

[ 172 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the musicale. Good iss Mrs. Wright to ask me. 
It iss living once more to be mit people who make 
the music. Mine father was forty years Herr 
Kapellmeister, ant he wrote much music.” 

They went in. All through the dinner and 
while dressing Sydney pondered her hfe in the 
old country, wondering if, as Max believed, she 
really had played before vast audiences, perhaps 
'before crowned heads. Not that crowned heads 
made any difference to democratic Sydney; but 
in Europe that is often made the test of highest 
excellence. 

They found the Wright home lovely and fra- 
grant as spring fields, banked with wild green 
things the boys had brought from the woods, 
and starred with dogwood blossoms and spirea. 

The night was warm enough for open win- 
dows, and when the three from the nursery ar- 
rived many guests were present; and looking in 
from the outside the scene must have reminded 
Mrs. Schmitz of something in her past, for she 
[ 173 1 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


stood still a moment on the porch, holding up 
her hand for silence. 

“It iss beautiful! Ant see! Miss Jones — 
she looks lovely in the efening gown. AL! She 
iss a goot girl! I know it! ” 

Ida was near a window, wearing the same frock 
she had worn at Bess’s party. 

Mrs. Wright was imprepared for the magnifi- 
cence of Mrs. Schmitz, when she swept down the 
stairway without her cloak. She wore a rich and 
becoming gown remodeled from one of her old 
ones, and a few rare jewels. The long train lent 
height to her massive body; and the lines of skirt 
and bodice gave her an elegance that was entirely 
lost in the squat effect of her ordinary severely 
tailored street suit. 

Sydney looked at her again and again. That 
day in the lily house she had been wonderful; 
but tonight she was some one else he felt, and he 
was shy about speaking to her. But Max was 
not; he paid her extravagant compliments and 
[ 174 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

with pride introduced her to his friends, and to 
Dr. and Mrs. Carter. 

They belonged together, those two, Sydney 
thought; not because of any physical resem- 
blance between the slender, aristocratic looking 
boy and the big woman, but because each pos- 
sessed a spirit that compelled attention, that won 
all, that was the essence of good breeding, world 
wide. 

There was no bitterness in Sydney’s attitude 
now; he was beginning to recognize the value of 
daily association with Max. 

The musicale progressed much as musicales 
usually do; yet for two people it became the 
greatest occasion in the world. 

Toward the close of the program Mrs. Wright 
persuaded Ida to sing, explaining to the audi- 
ence the youth and inexperience of her “song 
bird.” Ida’s simple ballad, sung without affecta- 
tion in her fresh voice, pleased them all and won 
an encore. 

[ 175 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


She stood again and sang without accompani- 
ment a plaintive German song, a sweet, tender 
tune that hngered even after she took her seat. 

With the first note Mrs. Schmitz bent for- 
ward, lips parted, her wide eyes fixed on the 
girl. Sydney, watching Ida, saw her look their 
way; saw her countenance change, though she 
continued steadily to the end. 

But when he looked again at Mrs. Schmitz 
he knew that it was her face, white as the dog- 
wood blossom hanging above her, not his, that 
arrested the singer’s eye. 

“ Seedney! ” the German said quietly as soon 
as the song ended, “ you bring Miss Jones to 
me — in the hall — no, on the porch, I must 
speak to her. It iss of great importance. 
Hurry! ” 

Still holding herself to quietness she rose and 
passed through the door to the porch. 


[m] 


CHAPTER IX 


l^/TRS. SCHMITZ was waiting in a deserted 
corner of the porch far from the noisy 
company around the punch bowl; and when Syd- 
ney came forward with Ida, she stepped toward 
them, reaching both hands to the wondering girl, 
and asking in a tremulous voice, 

“ Girl I Girl! Where learned you that 
song? ” 

“ I think my mother must have taught it to 
me when I was very little ; I can’t remember when 
I did not sing it.” 

“ Your mutter — do you remember her? ” 
Ida looked aroimd startled, and again at Mrs. 
Schmitz. “ Oh, sometimes I think I can; a tall, 
lovely woman, not large like you. Then it fades, 
— that picture, and I see nothing but darkness 
and — ” She shivered. 

[ml 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Ant water? ” Mrs. Schmitz volimteered 
excitedly. 

“ Yes. How — do you know ? ” 

“How do I know? Because you are mine 
leetle Ida! Because mine father write that song 
for you, and taught it to you. And it never was 
printed, ant no one sings it but mine leetle Idal ” 
She smoothed back the girl’s hair, and studied 
her face anxiously. 

“ That ’s true. No one sings it but me.” 

“Ant I was that tall woman; in America I 
grow fat.” 

“ Idal Ida,” the girl mused, giving the name 
its German sound. “ They used to call me so; 
I can dimly remember.” 

With one sweep of her loving arms Mrs. 
Schmitz took the girl to her heart, so long hun- 
gry for her child. Ida, who had drifted from 
the orphan asylum to one home after another, 
had found at last the mother for whom she had 
so long prayed. 


[1T81 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


It was the daughter who first noticed that 
others had approached. The discovery of her 
mother had changed her whole future. In a mo- 
ment, almost in a breath, the shadowy hand of 
family relationship had reached across the sea, 
bringing dim memories of her native land and 
speech; had given her a family where before she 
had been a lonely waif. Yet, for this is the 
way of youth, the present moment seemed the all 
important one to her. 

Mutterchen” she whispered, and knew not 
that she said “mother dear,” in German; “they 
are looking at us.” 

The mother, older and wiser, looked both ways 
on life, to the past and to the futoe. Not only 
had her heart massed the longing and sadness of 
dreary years and flung it to the winds in this 
instant of glad discovery; she was also planning 
for the future. No wonder she had no eyes for 
people, time, or place; for anything but this 
miracle of happiness; her child was fotmdl 
[ml 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


But once recalled, her innate courtesy- 
prompted the kind course. With a long embrace 
that held the pent tenderness of years, she re- 
leased Ida, and they went quietly in. After the 
other guests had gone Mrs. Schmitz told her 
story to the rejoicing Wrights, Max, and Billy 
and his mother. 

She wished to take Ida home with her that 
very night, but was surprised with opposition. 

“ I think I should stay where I am till the end 
of the semester. That is only a week or so; and 
it will inconvenience Mrs. Patton for me to go 
away now.” 

“ But what will she do in summer time? Seed- 
ney tells me summer times you work for money 
to buy your clothes.” 

“ Yes, but that is all planned for. When 
school closes they are going to the country ; they 
have made their arrangements.” 

“ So? Well, then I ’ll hire a good servant to 
take your place.” 


[ 1801 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Ida hesitated. It was a great temptation; yet 
her duty was clear, as her mother could see by 
her decision. “A stranger would be a lot of 
bother for such a short time. The Uttle children 
would be afraid of her, and the big ones would n’t 
mind her, and Mrs. Patton couldn’t leave the 
baby with her, and — Oh, don’t you see? I 
want to be with you, but I must stay where I 
am till vacation begins.” 

For an instant no one spoke. Mrs. Schmitz 
did not conceal her disappointment, yet she did 
a strange thing. She rose from her chair and 
drew Ida up beside her, gazing into her eyes, 
smoothing back her hair, noting every feature of 
her small, expressive face. She saw the loveli- 
ness there and her mother’s pride rejoiced in it; 
but she was looking deeper, was singing in her 
heart a song of joy. 

“ Mine child, for those words I love you more. 
Already you are like your father ant grand- 
father. Also like mine goot mutter, so much to 
[ 181 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


think of others. You stay, yes; but I shall hire 
the Japanese boy to do much work for you, 
scrub, clean, ant do things mit the dishrag.” 

She joked a little to keep back the tears, and 
saw Ida go away with Sydney, while she started 
home with Max. 

Both were silent till they had left the car and 
were walking toward the nursery, when Max 
said, with a cadence of regret in his voice, “ I ’ll 
never find another home like yours in the City of 
Green Hills.” 

She whirled, blocking his way. “ You are not 
going. You ant Seedney are still mine boys.” 

“We ’ll be in the way.” 

“ Never! You are mine mascot. Seedney iss 
mine strong right hand. I got plenty rooms. 
Do n’t you see? ” Under the arc light he saw 
her face beaming with the joy of planning. 
“ That ’s what for I save mine best room mit the 
porch; that iss now Ida’s. Ant we will have a 
quartette, four parts.” 

[1821 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Inside the house they discussed that matter and 
many others, excitedly. In imagination they 
refurnished the house, disputing whether pink or 
blue would be nicest for Ida. Max and his new 
sister went through the imiversity, Max deciding 
his profession; and they were hotly debating the 
question whether Ida’s voice could be developed 
into a high dramatic soprano, or would only be 
a mezzo soprano, when Sydney came, Sydney, 
the practical. 

“ It ’s half past two,” he warned. “ Max, if 
you don’t behave, Ida will lose her mother as 
soon as she ’s found her. You gink! can’t you 
see our mother-on-the-side is worn to a frazzle? ” 

Mrs. Schmitz laughed and started toward the 
hall. “ Goot Seedney! ” she called back. “ Ida 
finds already two fine brothers; one. Max, to 
make her fly mit the clouds ; ant Seedney, to hold 
her to the earth, from which all our life must 
come. She iss a lucky girl.” 

“ The nursery is all right for the night,” 
[ 183 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


embarrassed Sydney said by way of changing 
the subject. “ The temperature has dropped; I 
turned on the heat for the orchids.” 

She patted his arm. “Gootboy! Goot night, 
two goot boys,” she said cheerily in another tone, 
and left them. 

At school the silent prejudice against Max 
had shown itself in looks, in subtle ways impos- 
sible to define, and in the fact that he was omit- 
ted from some of the class affairs. Yet as the 
weeks passed he could feel it decline. 

Billy was the best of friends. He told Max 
that all the “ good ones of the bunch ” liked him 
from the day he went back to school and marched 
boldly up to Walter in the presence of his spe- 
cial friends and said, “ Mr. Buckman, when one 
does wrong the only way he can atone is to make 
good for it if possible, and live it down. I paid 
for the food I took, as you know; and I intend 
to stay in Fifth Avenue High till I graduate. 
Some day I may get even with you.” 

[ 184 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


The words were not a menace. Max’s face 
and tone were kind, greatly puzzling Walter. 
When he least expected it and in the most aston- 
ishing way Walter was to acknowledge that 
Max was more than even. 

It was perhaps two weeks after the musicale 
that Max and Sydney were at Billy’s, planning 
and rehearsing some of the details of Billy’s 
play. It was well on the way toward presenta- 
tion. He had worked hard, beginning in early 
autumn, and revising again and again, till at 
last he had won high commendation from his 
teacher of English, who had spurred him to 
write it. 

A committee from each high school in the city 
would hear it, and on their joint decision rested 
the award of the prize. If Billy won it would 
be for the honor of his school as well as for 
himself. 

Late in the afternoon Billy’s small cousin, 
Madge Price — little Miss Snow, her brother 
r 185] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

Hec called her because of her white hair — ran 
in, gesticulating wildly, scarcely able to speak 
coherently. 

“ Quick I Come! It ’s Dottie Buekman! She ’s 
all swallowed up! She ’ll be dead in a minute! ” 

Before she had finished, Billy swung her to his 
arm and ran out with her, questioning as he 
went. Max and Sydney followed. Around the 
corner they hurried to where the city, in the 
process of street grading, had made a huge cut. 

Instantly they knew. All the children in the 
neighborhood played there at “making caves.” 
Many little hands had worked far into the sand 
bank, easy to dig yet damp and hard packed 
enough to stay in place. But at last the root- 
netted crust above became too thin to support 
its weight, and had fallen, imprisoning the httle 
child in its fatal clutch. 

“Oh, oh! She’U be all dead!” Madge cried 
piteously as Billy put her down. 

Heedless of her, the boys frantically tore at 
[ 186 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


the earth with their hands. Billy grasped the 
situation, as Max could see, while he snatched 
at the earth with inadequate fingers. 

“Run, Madge! Tell mother, everybody! Tell 
them to bring shovels!” Billy commanded, and 
sent out ringing calls for help in every direction. 

There were no men near at that hour, and only 
women came running with every sort of an im- 
plement from a shovel to kitchen spoons; but 
they worked as frantically as the boys. 

“ Some one get a basin of water,” Max com- 
manded. 

“ Who ’s going to stop to drink water? ” BiUy 
asked sarcastically. 

No one halted to answer, least of all Max. He 
had a fierce sort of strength that outmatched 
sturdy Sydney and even big, strong BiUy. He 
drove his shovel deeper, piled it higher, and plied 
it faster than any one else. The perspiration 
poured from him, yet he shivered with dread of 
what they should presently see. 

[ 187 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Out of my way I ” he cried to a hysterical 
woman who ran in front of him, and did no 
work herself. “ Take her away, Billy I ” he de- 
manded in a voice that would be obeyed, the long, 
rapid sweep of his arms never halting, never 
slacking, indeed, moving more swiftly with each 
dip of the shovel. He did not see or know that 
the woman shpped back at his first fierce word. 

It seemed hours, in reality it was less than 
minutes, when a fragment of a little skirt was 
uncovered. 

“ Here she is! ” Max shouted wildly; and the 
boys worked with more fury, till presently three 
pairs of hands drew the limp little figure to the 
light, apparently dead. 

A motor car was standing alone in front of a 
house near by. While they were working. Max 
had noticed it and planned for it. 

“ One of you run and crank up that machine. 
Quick! ” he ordered. 

“ I will! I know it; it belongs to one of the 
[ 188 ] 



Here she is ! ” Max shouted wildly 








\ 


I 




} 




t 




% 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 

neighbors.” Billy was off, shouting back as he 
ran. 

Now they knew what the water was for. Max 
plunged his handkerchief into it, opened the ht- 
tle sand-filled mouth and wiped it clear; the 
nostrils the same. Far out he puUed the small 
tongue. “ Hold it so,” he directed Sydney, while 
he continued with the cleansing water. 

The machine rolled up, and before it could 
stop, or hardly halt its speed. Max with the child 
in his arms sprang in, Sydney behind him carry- 
ing the basin. 

“ The nearest doctor,” Max called, but un- 
necessarily, for Billy understood, knew well 
which doctor lived nearest, and was already on 
the way. 

Down the street they flew, heedless of the 
shouts of the irate owner of the car, while Max 
and Sydney worked hard to restore breath to the 
smothered child. 

Again and again Max dipped the useful 

t 189] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


handkerchief into the basin, wiping off the lit- 
tle face. Gently he pressed down her chest and 
released the pressure in even movements. 

“Why don’t you drive, Billy?” he called 
desperately. 

Billy was driving as he never had before, using 
every ounce of power he could make. He too 
felt the wheels creep, and pumped the gasoline 
more recklessly, while he went hot and cold at 
the thought of being too late. 

It was a beautiful afternoon and the streets 
were full of women and children, sauntering or 
playing in the freedom and security of the qmet 
residence district. In and out among them, honk- 
ing and shouting, Billy wove his perilous course, 
praying fervently if not consciously that he 
might not kill one chdd while trying to save 
another. 

It was not till an officer swooped down upon 
him from a crossi street that he knew how fast 
he was going. In long leaps the galloping horse 

[ 190 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


made losing speed beside the machine, the officer 
shouting raucously at Billy to stop, and waving 
his club with menace. 

“ It ’s life and death 1 ” shouted Billy, driving 
on still faster. 

In a second more he was at the physician’s 
door; but not before the anxious boys in the 
tonneau imagined they had seen a tiny flutter of 
the little eyelids; thought they felt a faint lift 
of the bosom. Yet they dared not hope; the 
motion of the car was deceiving. 

They were fortimate to find the doctor in, one 
of the few to keep an office in the residence 
district. From Max’s trembling arms he took 
the httle one and laid her on the operating table, 
questioning while he began a skillful examina- 
tion, the boys watching silently, fearing yet long- 
ing to hear his verdict. 

He took no time for words save a few com- 
mands when, needing assistance, he forced some- 
thing between her lips, drop by drop. 

[ 191 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


In a moment they saw a movement of her lips. 
Presently they could see her breath coming, and 
at last her eyes opened — opened slowly and 
closed again, showing no intelligence; and Max 
looked anxiously into the doctor’s noncommittal 
face, trying to read it. 

How the moments dragged for the watching 
boys! The doctor’s face grew sterner with each 
second, and Max began to lose courage, keeping 
his eyes from the other boys, when a soft moan 
broke the silence, and following that, incoherent 
sounds from the stiff, sand-roughened lips of 
the child. 

The doctor straightened. His face relaxed in 
a smile. To the boys it seemed as if he had been 
suddenly released from some dreadful ordeal. 
Sternness melted in tenderness, and his hand had 
the gentleness of a mother’s as he smoothed back 
the matted hair and spoke cheering words. 

“Hi there, baby! It’s all right now, little 
one.” 


[ 192 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Slowly the child’s gaze wandered from one to 
another, half frightened, only half aroused. 

Billy thrust his head within her view. “ Want 
to go home, Taddie? ” 

That was Walter’s pet name for her and it 
further aroused her. She knew Billy and feebly 
reached out her arms to him. 

“ Yes, we ’ll take her home,” the doctor said. 
“ The sight of her mother will be best medicine 
now.” With that they stepped into the car and 
drove to Mr. Buckman’s house, arriving to find 
it in great commotion. 

Mrs. Wright and Billy’s mother had been out 
when the accident occurred; but the story of 
Madge, who had been playing with Dottie, added 
to the conflicting reports of the neighbors, had 
terribly frightened Mrs. Buckman. She had 
telephoned the police department, called her hus- 
band, and had their own physician waiting when 
the boys brought her darling safely to her arms. 

The doctors joined in a further examination, 

[ 193 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


while in an adjoining room, by Mr. Buckman’s 
order, the three boys waited the result. They 
were still under great tension, and restless while 
the tall clock ticked off the interminable minutes, 
one by one. 

But at last the door opened to admit the men; 
and the boys heard a soft sobbing, and the 
mother’s voice speaking a torrent of endearing 
words over her rescued child. 

“Tell them — thank — Oh, James, you 
know what to say,” she called after her husband 
in a voice tremulous with tears of joy. 

Before he could speak, Walter ran in, di- 
sheveled, haggard, and closing the door, stood 
behind his father. 

“ Tell me, young man,” the second doctor 
asked Max, “ how it happened you knew enough 
to treat that child as you did? But for that 
nothing could have saved her. As it was, it was 
a mighty close shave.” 

“ My father ’s a doctor, and I have sometimes 
[ 194 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


been with him on emergency cases, and seen him 
work. Besides he told me a few things.” Max 
spoke modestly in a voice weak from excitement 
and hard work. 

“ He did more than that,” Billy put in 
quickly. “ He worked at the digging faster than 
any of us ; he had twice the power of Miunps and 
me, though we tried as hard as we could, and he 
thought of ever3rthing, and — ” 

“ We aU did as much as we could,” Max inter- 
rupted; “ if either one had done less it would n’t 
have been enough.” 

“ That ’s true. Yet your knowledge of what 
to do after she was imcovered saved the cliild. 
Mr. Buckman, thank him for yom* little girl’s 
life.” 

Max hung back and was about to speak again 
when Walter pushed forward and caught Max 
by both hands. “I — I am the one who owes 
you everything. Max Ball! ” 

“ It ’s nothing,” Max objected, too upset to 
[ 195 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


realize what he was saying; “I — I guess I ’m 
even with you.” 

Mr. Buckman stared at them wonderingly, 
and the two doctors waited a minute in embar- 
rassed 'silence, realizing that here was a matter 
quite out of their province. With the promise of 
another visit later in the evening, they departed, 
leaving Mr. Buckman gazing questioningly at 
his agitated son. 

“ Oh, you do n’t know what reason you have 
to be ashamed of me, father,” Walter burst out; 
“ I ’ll never be able to look you in the face again.” 

He told his story, how he had listened behind 
the portieres when Max made his confession, 
how jealous he had been of Max’s popularity at 
school, and the way he had revenged himself 

“ What? You that plucky chap that came 
here last winter? ” Ignoring Walter, Mr. Buck- 
man strode forward and grasped Max by the 
hand. “ I wondered what had become of you. 
Now you cross my threshold again to bring my 
[ 190 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


little daughter who, but for you, would be dead.” 
He turned away. Stern and proud, he could not 
tnist his voice. 

For a moment there was absolute silence. 
Mr. Buckman still held Max by the hand, while 
the rest waited for him to speak again, Walter 
with his back to the others, his shoulders droop- 
ing, the figure of abject shame. 

“I want to see you in my office — soon; to- 
morrow. I want to talk with you. A chap who 
can do the plucky things — ” 

“ It was n’t any more than they did,” Max 
began, determined that BiUy and Sydney should 
be recognized. 

“ Yes, yes, I know all of you saved my little 
girl; but only one sick, neglected boy came alone 
to face me and make restitution for a fault. 
That ’s what I ’m remembering now. I wish to 
God I had a son like that! ” He wheeled and 
walked rapidly out of the room. 

“Oh, father! father!” It was a desperate 

[ 197 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


cry. Walter ran toward the door but it closed 
in his face. He threw himself against it and, 
heedless of listeners, sobbed like a heart-broken 
child. 

For an embarrassed instant the other three 
stood stock-still and looked at the floor. They 
did not know what to do. Mentally numb from 
the strain they had undergone, this added distress 
bewildered them. 

It was Billy who first roused to the proper 
thing. “ Beat it, kids! ” he whispered hoarsely; 
and they scrambled out, leaving Walter quite 
imconscious of their departure. 


[ 198 1 


CHAPTER X 


rpi HAT race with death for the life of little 
Dottie Buckman brought such intense 
fatigue to Max that he did not that night think 
much about what Mr. Buckman might have to 
say to him; but the next day the coming inter- 
view mixed itself exasperatingly with books and 
recitations. He built all sorts of extravagant 
plans for the future; scoffed at himself for them, 
and was chagrined to find that the mere notion 
of good fortune could so distract him. 

But when late that afternoon he was admitted 
to find Mr. Buckman busy at his desk, his dreams 
seemed very foolish. The atmosphere of severity 
that pervaded the office sobered him; and as the 
absorbed man did not look up. Max seated him- 
self quietly to wait till he should be noticed. 

At business the man looked the master he was. 

[ 199 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Power showed in every movement of his broad 
hand; sternness in every feature of his large, 
deeply lined face. He was one to drive impor- 
tant enterprises to success against the greatest 
odds; the only kind of man who is able to con- 
quer the territory of the Northwest where nature, 
though lavish, makes harsh resistance. 

Yet Max could read in that severe face love of 
justice, scorn of pettiness, and pride of personal 
honor. 

When he looked up and saw Max the lines 
in his face broke from sternness to pleasure and 
he rose and shook hands cordially. 

“ I Ve been expecting you, my boy,” he said 
kindly, pointing to a nearer chair. “ I ’ve 
thought of you all day.” 

It was a long conference. Mr. Buckman in- 
sisted on supporting Max while he finished his 
education. He wished him to leave Mrs. Schmitz 
at the beginning of the university year and go 
to a chapter house where he could use all of his 
[ 200 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


time for study and other student interests — no 
doubt of Max’s ability to “ make ” a fraternity 
occurred to him. For this he told Max he had 
already arranged to pay him an allowance of one 
hundred dollars a month. 

Max was intuitive; was able in mind to spring 
forward to the future, seeing at a glimpse all 
the long path to be traveled, as a bird, skimming 
the ether high above the earth, sees the great 
panorama spread below and her destination 
almost before she sets out. 

So Max saw that no matter how kind and gen- 
erous Mr. Buckman might mean to be, and 
really be, this course woxild bind Max to him for 
the future. Though he should accept the offer 
as a loan — and his pride was robust enough 
to allow it to be a loan only — he saw that devia- 
tion from the man’s wishes would mean to him 
ingratitude, a breach of fidelity. 

It was to escape a similar situation that Max 
had run away from home. Could he give a 
[201 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


stranger what he would not give his father, who 
had so much greater right to exact it — the abso- 
lute surrender of his own wishes? 

He found it hard to explain himself. Every 
argument he offered was met by a stronger one. 
The financier was bent on doing something large 
and splendid for the boy who had saved his child; 
and he would not accept Max’s refusal. 

“ Mr. Buckman, were you always rich? ” Max 
asked, a touch of desperation in his tone. 

“ Indeed, no. I was a poor farmer boy — 
made every dollar I have.” The pride of the 
self-made man was in his loud voice. “ I carved 
my fortune out of this land — the timber, the 
water power, its rivers and sea.” 

“ What if some one, when you were a boy, had 
compelled you to take up medicine, or the law, 
or to be a minister? Would you?” 

“ By George, no! I was n’t the sort for life 
in a chair. I wanted to be out fighting things ; 
would like to be outside now.” 

[ 202 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ Even if you had not gained riches you would 
have wished to have a voice in planning your life, 
would n’t you? ” 

“ My boy, I do n’t want to plan your life for 
you; I only want to help you carry out your 
own plans.” 

Max was helpless. He felt Mr. Buckman’s 
present sincerity; yet he knew that one who said, 
“Gol” or “Come!” to scores of men who 
obeyed absolutely, would expect obedience from 
anyone who took his money. Deceit would be 
the alternative. 

Suddenly he realized a little of the reason for 
Walter’s failure to please his father; unlimited 
pocket money, the flattery of his fellows, and 
the easy but fatal path of duplicity. 

At last Max spoke resolutely. “ Mr. Buck- 
man, something in me makes it impossible to ac- 
cept your offer. I don’t believe you yourself 
would think as well of me if I did.” 

Surprised, the man looked steadily at Max a 
r 203 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


moment before replying. “ I believe you ’re 
right, boy. You ’re a new sort of youngster to 
me. Go ahead in your own way. Only you must 
promise me this: if you ever need money, for 
school or business, come to me. Will you? Will 
you promise that? ” 

“ If — if I need it pretty badly I ’ll come. 
I ’ll come before I have to rob ice boxes.” They 
both smiled, and the tension was broken. 

After some further talk the interview ended, 
and Max left the office knowing he had won 
respect instead of merely gratitude. It had been 
a hard hour; and considering he had “turned 
down” a hundred dollars a month he thought 
it strange that he should feel so buoyant. 

Whistling gayly as he walked from the car, he 
opened the door of his home to meet a stranger, 
a small, quiet-spoken man with an inscrutable 
face, who rose at once and held out a copy of 
the morning paper. “ Are you the young man 
mentioned here as Max Ball? ” 

[204 1 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


The paper had published a long, sensational 
account of the event of the previous day, magni- 
fying Max’s part in it, giving a garbled story of 
his life in the city, and asserting that he would 
become the beneficiary of Mr. Buckman. 

Max admitted his identity, but denied the clos- 
ing statement. 

Question after question the man asked, ques- 
tions that seemed apropos of nothing at first; 
but they slowly, circuitously led to facts in 
Max’s life that he had intended never to disclose. 

It seemed as if he were on trial for a crime 
he had not committed, and was being proven cer- 
tainly guiliy. As often as possible he took ref- 
uge in silence; but the man was able to compel 
speech, to make him tell all he knew and more 
besides. 

“ What is all this for? ” Max importimed for 
the third time, when the man was closing his 
notebook. 

“ That I am not at liberty to mention.’* 

[205 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“I’m all straight; honest, I ami” Max 
pleaded. “And whatever you think you’ve 
found against me, I do n’t want my — the lady 
here who has been so good to me, to be drawn 
into it. I can’t have her troubled.” 

A slight change softened the inquisitor’s face. 
“ I think we won’t need to annoy her. Perhaps 
you are more anxious yourself than is neces- 
sary.” With this he left Max to a long eve- 
ning of distress. 

Mrs. Schmitz was dining out that night, and 
he fidgeted for hours, wondering what the strange 
grilhng could portend. But she was so late in 
returning that he concluded he must not disturb 
her, and went to bed in a ferment of excitement 
and bafilement. 

With the dark his worries loomed larger. 
Could it be possible that at some place where he 
had worked things were missing, and at this 
late day they were suspecting him? Wild visions 
of prosecution, conviction on circumstantial evi- 
[ 206 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


dence, and jail filled Max with terror, and when 
delayed sleep finally came, they persisted in 
troubled dreams. 

The morning sun scattered his fears and a 
talk with Mrs. Schmitz wiped them out; though 
when the ringing of the doorbell interrupted 
them, her parting remark lodged a new idea, not 
a fear but an anxiety. 

“ Do n’t you be troubling about stealings you 
never did, nor poliee, nor things like that. Some 
one iss himting you; it will be your father! ” 

It was Billy coming with a cheerful message, 
which he delivered without the ceremony of other 
greetings. 

“ Max, old boy, you ’re it, all righty. I was 
over to see May Nell last night. Mr. Smith was 
there, and I told him about what you did the 
other day — ** 

“ What we did,” Max corrected. 

“No interruptions. May Nell had told him 
how Walter treated you and how you stood it; 

[207 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


and Mr. Smith said, ‘ Tell that young chap to 
call on me. I Ve employment and promotion 
for men of that stamp. Most anyone can make 
good in the sxmshine on a smooth road; but the 
man who plods alone in the dark and uphill is 
the one I can trust.’ ” 

“ He meant you, Billy. Mumps told me all 
about how Jim Barney treated you, and how you 
worked all siunmer with robbery hanging over 
you because you would n’t tell on a girl ; and — ” 
“Cut it! That ’s ancient history. It was Mr. 
Smith I worked for, and my job ’s waiting for 
me whenever I want it. What I have for you 
is business for today. Right now! This min- 
ute! Mr. Smith wants you to come to see him. 
Understand? ” 

“ But I can’t go to work yet. Mrs. 
Schmitz — 

“ He does n’t want you right away, only to 
chin with you a bit; to catch you before some one 
else nabs you. He’s all the time looking for 
[ 208 1 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


‘ young timber well-seasoned and straight- 
grown,’ as he calls it, to put into his business.” 

“How can he tell timber before it is tried 
out?” 

“ That ’s just it. He thinks you have been 
tried out.” 

Max pondered a moment, amazed by the many 
opportunities offering, by the strange things hap- 
pening to him. But back of all perplexities 
stood a calm, strong figure, Mrs. Schmitz. And 
in contrast to the stress and strain he knew he 
must meet if he went to work for Mr. Smith or 
Mr. Buckman, he saw the warm, fragrant nur- 
sery with its mysteries of natme ever inviting 
study, and busy, happy evenings with music, his 
goddess. 

It was but an instant that he was silent, his 
gaze fixed on the floor in an abstraction that Billy 
respected though it seemed long to him before 
Max spoke. 

“ Billy, it ’s jolly good of you to do so much 
[ 209 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


for me; and kind of Mr. Smith, too. But when 
he knows my plans I beheve he will advise me 
to stick to them.” 

“ What are they? ” 

“ Work for Mrs. Schmitz till I learn her busi- 
ness as well as she knows it.” 

“What then?” 

“ She wants me for her partner.” 

“Hooray for you! But you’ll have to give 
up your music.” 

“ No; she wishes me to go on with that. She 
says music and flowers go together, and that 
flowers will support me while I am conquering 
the violin. After that she — she thinks I ’ll do 
something unusual. I shall try not to disappoint 
her.” 

“Gee! Luck’s coming your way all right. 
No, you ’ve just gone and collared the witch.” 

“ I guess that ’s the only way to win her,” 

They went away together to attend to many 
pressing matters concerning the play, which was 
[ 210 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


only two days off. And the hurry and excite- 
ment pushed other disturbing thoughts out of 
Max’s mind till it was over, so successfully 
over that it won the coveted literary prize for 
the Fifth Avenue High. 

But the day after, when Max was tired and 
depressed from loss of sleep, all his anxieties 
returned; and they were many, for he had 
imagined a hundred different dilemmas behind 
that strange interview. 

He was playing softly in the cool parlor, try- 
ing to forget his worries, when a tall, distin- 
guished looking man was ushered in. Max 
turned, and almost dropped his violin. “ Father! 
Oh, father, you are ill! ” 

“ Not ill now — now that I have foxmd you.” 
He held out his arms. 

Forgetting all his past resolves. Max threw 
himself into those open arms and returned their 
close, passionate embrace. “Father! I’m so 
glad!” 


[ 211 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


“ My boy! You cannot be half so glad as I. 
Do you forgive me? ” 

Max was astonished. His father asking for- 
giveness! “Don’t ask that! I — I am the 
one.” 

“ No. I was the older one. I should have 
been the wiser, known my son better. All this 
long dreadful year that I have searched for you, 
I have known that it was my unreasonable com- 
mand that you should give up music entirely and 
study law whether you liked it or not, that drove 
you from home. It was my bitter lesson.” 

Max noted the thinner figure, the lines of sor- 
row in his face, and the gray in his hair that had 
been shining black the last time he saw it; and 
he understood a little of the grief that had walked 
by his father’s side day and night for the longest 
year of his life. 

Mrs. Schmitz, hearing voices, came in and met 
Max’s father as a friend. “ I have been ex- 
pecting you already. I knew you would be find- 
[ 212 1 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


ing him, Mr. Ballantree. Mine own daughter 
after thirteen years comes out of the sea to me; 
much easier was it for you to find Max.” 

Briefiy they discussed the search, coming soon 
to Max’s future. 

“ What do you wish, my son? To stay here 
or come home with me? ” 

How different was this from the heated 
words, sounding so terrible in yoimg ears, that 
had driven Max from home. “ I ’d rather see 
you dead than a miserable fiddler I ” the father 
had said, standing before his library fire, and not 
looking up when his son left the room for the 
last time. 

Max told of Mrs. Schmitz’s goodness, her wis- 
dom, and her business offer, not omitting the 
future he hoped for with his violin. “ But if 
you wish it I will go with you and try to make 
a success of law.” 

The sad, careworn look came again to the 
man’s face, but before he could speak Mrs. 

[ 213 ] 


BILLY TO-MORROW’S CHUMS 


Schmitz broke in. “ The law iss it? Will you 
ask him to that? ” 

“No. I ask nothing of him, except that he 
shall try to be a good man and — and love his 
old father a httle.” 

His voice trembled, and Max went to him, 
putting his arm across his shoulders. “ I shall 
always do that, father. I think I understand 
you now.” 

“ Ach! If fathers only would remember that 
when the goot God cuts out a boy mit the pat- 
tern of a fiddler he iss not intending to make a 
lawyer to settle fights. Mit music you settle 
fights better anyways.” 

“ You are right. Mothers know best. His 
did, but I would n’t listen to her. The boy stays 
with you, Mrs. Schmitz. You saved him.” 

When Mr. BaUantree left shortly for his 
eastern home it was to arrange his affairs for re- 
moving to Washington, the state that Max chose 
for his future home. 

THE END 



J. 





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